


It Couldn't Hurt

by caballero78



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Boss Harry, Bottom Louis, Boxer Harry, Cute Louis, Dominant Harry, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fighter Harry, Light BDSM, Louis in Glasses, Louis-centric, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sassy Louis, Sexual Tension, Stubborn Louis, Submissive Louis, This is difficult to tag, Top Harry, Unresolved Tension, Violence, Voyeurism, sort of enemies to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-18 12:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10616907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caballero78/pseuds/caballero78
Summary: When his past comes to bite him on the backside, Louis Tomlinson isn't going to go down easy. He's stubborn, competitive and wonderfully uptight enough to deflect anyone coming in and overthrowing everything he's been working towards for the past five years. He will fight dirty.It's not until he pushes a little too far does he realise he's met his match.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea I got a month ago and only just got round to writing it up a couple weeks back. Originally a long one shot but then I thought no, why not split it in three? If you could, please let me know your thoughts.

It was never going to be the world’s easiest task, lugging six coffees, three muffins, two chocolate croissants and a bacon and egg - scratch the sauce or any butter please and thank you - breakfast sandwich three blocks without them getting cold by the time he’d gotten past security, taken the elevator up to the seventh floor then climbed the stairs for the final five. Every time breathing a silent curse to the ‘out of order’ tape that was haphazardly stuck across the accountable buttons he would make a mental note to get onto them about that. And every time, he forgets.

So it’s forgivable, that he may be on the short side of cheery when he comes - falls - through the glass doors looking less than enthusiastic every morning. Not forgetting his briefcase that was more often than not, full. Full of shit. Full of his own and other bastards’ work that were too lazy to complete or had given him the ‘ _it’s my brother’s birthday mate, please, just this once_ ,’ or ‘ _if you do this for me, I’ll owe you big time. Please Louis._ ’

Louis’d sworn that this year would be his year. The year he indeed grows that much overdue backbone. A resolution made firmly to himself and any one else who bothered to ask, to say _no_ more often. And actually mean it. He is a professional, for heavens’ sake. Britain’s very own Louis Kahn, if you please. Appropriately self titled. His drawings and innovation are the reason this company is still standing, the _sole_ reason, perhaps, that the CEO Sir Thomas Murray had hand selected him to oversee the runnings of this private company whilst Gary, the Deputy usually in charge, had taken an unforeseen leave.

“Ah, and here is the truffle ball himself!,” Louis rolled his eyes, acting out a less than graceful entrance through the double doors with his hands _this_ full, “six minutes late, as usual.”

However. His prime position in the company didn’t fool anyone. Didn’t stop him from being the kindly adopted bell boy of the entire office, his faux-snarky stares fooling no one as they slap their orders into their mobiles every morning ready to light up Louis’ screen at 7:30AM sharp. Every morning, he would bring the coffee. Every morning, he would recite the oath to be more firm out loud to himself, chuntering as he pulls a sock on inside out, hopping around to find the other because if he was to be taken seriously he really ought to be wearing matching pairs. You can tell a man by his ankles, after all.

“Next time, get your own dairy free, non-fat, double espresso-shot, iced caramel latte.”

Louis slammed the offensive drink atop the desk in front of his co-worker, Jean, while a hum of cackles erupted around them, the small gathering of pre-office hours already in full swing with bodies lounged unproductively on top of tables, half eaten portable breakfasts discarded not far from the telltale trail of crumbs.

“I can see those French eyebrows raising Gautier,” Louis pointed a finger, back turned to Jean, “I’m having none of it.”

“Will there come a day, when you get to know another French man who goes by the name of Jean?”

Louis nodded to the people who took their respective coffees and food, smiling and turning around with empty hands. He sighed when he saw Jean tentatively take a pathetic sip through the straw, smacking his lips together to make sure it was just _so_.

“Good enough Monsieur?”

A hum and a frown as he took another sizeable gulp gave him his answer, “Oh oui, Merci.”

“Excellent,” Louis nodded, cracking his head to the side at the ache steadily making itself a home there. Add, buying new pillows to that endless to-do list that has become his life. “Anyone know when sodding Sodex are coming by the way?”

Laura, assistant PR to Gary, now, to _him_ , turned around from clicking away on her keyboard, “Uh, I think they said they’d double booked?”

“Double booked when?”

She shrugged, nudging her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, “Apparently they were pencilled in for a job earlier this week and it went under the radar so ours has been pushed back.”

Louis sighed, again. It’s not even 9AM and that’s his third sigh in.

“Priorities as always.” Louis rolled his eyes, cringed when the headache that had been niggling, spasmed back to life behind his sockets. He pushed himself off the table he’d begun to slump on and rubbed his forefinger and thumb over the bridge of his nose, wondering if maybe he applied enough pressure he’d go blind.

“Aw look at you. What is it now, nine days? Nine days in and you’re already folding under the pressure.”

“I am not folding,” Louis’ hand fell to balance out the other at his hips, though his eyes remained closed for a second longer, “under anything.”

He wasn’t even sure who said it. Still hadn’t bothered opening his eyes to see. Just kind of stood there, hands on hips, head lolled slightly back, enjoying the black nothingness that came with the inside of his lids. As of late, he didn’t get to see much of them and he felt like they needed a catch up.

But then the familiar sing song of a phone brought him back to living.

Before Laura could even finish off referring the call, Louis was already tho footing his way to the head office, running his hand down the front of his grey shirt and nodding as she called after him:

“Sebastian’s on line one, wants to know about the glass order for Warrington.”

 

*

 

He’d managed to complete forty or so full, tetchy seconds of ignoring the stupid man child as he plonked down in the seat that was left vacant for a reason. That reason now being sprawled out on the side of the desk in an un orderly fashion with the tabs Louis’d fixed in the different pages now bending and coming undone, making Louis’ inner OCD spark like a bitch.

When he successfully managed to rip his attention by prodding his ear with the end of a pencil, Louis’ cat like reflex snatched the damn thing and snapped it in half. He made a point of smiling sarcastically around a mouth full of the apple he was snacking on, before dropping it in the bin.

Jean rolled his lips, stilling the swivelling of his chair trying his hardest to not laugh. “Stressed?”

“No,” His jaw was beginning to ache from chewing, he sighed, turning back to his sketches, “irritated.”

“Well lucky for you, there’s talk of a new guy coming in.”

“There’s always _talk_ , Jean.” Louis grimaced as his teeth hit the core by accident.

“No but this is kosher.”

“When I actually see something happening, when I see fresh blood walk through those doors I will believe it.” He hummed around his last mouthful, crunching privately as he could with Jean so close to him like that and threw the core into the bin with the broken utensil, “Until then, I’ll be sitting comfortably.”

Jean scoffed. He pulled back, which Louis found irritating as _why_ couldn’t he have done that earlier instead of invading his space when trying to eat as elegantly as one could with someone practically scoping your pores. “What?”

“Nothing, I just,” He lounged back into his chair, swaying a little as he relaxed into the recliner, “I just can’t figure you out.”

“Well, then stop trying?”

“It’s just,” The scent of fresh coffee was passing through from somewhere and Louis raised his nose to catch a whiff, ears trained on the Frenchman, “half the time you’re super cocky and controlling and then the other half you’re more, I don’t know. Gooey.”

Suddenly, his interest was sparked along with his ego, twitching and shifting uncomfortably under his skin as he turned around with half squinted eyes, “Cocky?”

Jean shrugged, tipping his own at head at the warming, fresh scent. “Yeah.”

“… _cocky_?”

“You’ve got that no nonsense attitude, you know? It’s needed for this kind of place but, there’s like this whole other side to you that-,” Jean giggled a little, he wasn’t even looking at him but could feel the wonderful blue lasers turning him to stone, “like you’re so much softer than what you like people to think.”

A moment passes. A silent moment, filled with words that Louis felt he shouldn’t voice. 90% of them being moderately offensive.

“A lot more softer,” Jean tacked on, nodding to himself as he stretched it out, “… like everything else is just an act.”

“Okay.” Louis cut him off. Felt weird with where this was going, like some truth was about to be unearthed that he wasn’t quite ready to hear yet but sort of already knew anyway. It’s all a healthy measure of keeping a consistent but functional level of delusion that everyone believes too. “I… don’t know what you’re talking about but-,”

Jean leant in and Louis didn’t budge, lips left curved mid vowel, “Just let go, yeah?”

From this angle, Louis could see how his freckles dotted out and faded onto his temples too. Cute. “Of what?”

He cleared his throat and tried not to go cross-eyed as he stared at the pools of chocolatey brown gazing at him kindly. He hated Jean in equal measures to which he loved him, but over all, he was kind. He was the first to come to Louis’ aid whenever he needed it and if Louis were to be completely honest, probably deserved this position a lot more than he did. He was pretty too. Maybe the French genes and how his accent made everything he said sound sultry had something to do with it.

“The act Lou Lou. Let go of it all,” He bopped Louis’ nose before pulling back and swivelling round in his chair again, “Admit when things are too much for you and realise that that’s okay.”

Chewing the inside of his cheek he squinted at the man, waggling his eyebrows at him now, all sense of the previous grown up caring nature vanished and he couldn’t help but smile. Before Louis could quietly admit that maybe he had a point, his name was being hollered across the office so loud that he’d already got murder on his mind for whoever was being idiotic enough to completely forget about the _telephone system_ they have for such far away communication. He popped his head up and to the side to see it was Laura, waggling her hand around mid-air like a lunatic.

Louis’ face said it all.

“Well if you answered your phone!” She glared back, tipping her head to the side.

Louis pouted, lips pulled into an exaggerated turn to convey his confusion. He looked over at the sleek black device pinned at the far corner and saw the white light was still on.

Not wanting to shout back he simply looked back up and shrugged, which prompted her to roll her eyes and inform him anyway that Gary was waiting for him on line one. Has been for a minute or so now.

So, excusing himself quickly he warned Jean about touching his new pens before sealing it with a minor death threat and employing a light jog up to the main office, rounding the corner and taking the stairs the fastest he’s done in weeks. He hadn’t heard from the absent manager since two weeks ago, the day after he left, plus everything was running smoothly, so he were eager to find out what was up. If not a little nervous.

Closing the door he crossed the extensive floor to the desk and slipped into the plush armchair situated behind it, sighing through his nose he enjoyed how the buttery soft leather welcomed his exhausted limbs like a warm hug at the end of a long day.

It was only 1PM.

“Gary, hi.”

 

*

 

“Harry.”

“Yes.”

“As in, Harry with an H?”

“Yes.” There was a pause from Gary on the end of the line, “…Is there any other way to spell it?”

“Harry Styles,” Louis pushed on, eyes fixed on the corner of the mahogany desk he was gripping right now, just to remain upright. Or to make sure this was real. Or something. “Styles.”

“ _Yes_ , Louis.”

“Oh my _-_ _are you-_ ,”

“And before you say it, Styles as in the man who is your new boss, yes.”

Louis’ turn to pause.

Or rather, cover the speaker and curse a couple of times before scrubbing his face and returning to listen to the tail end of what was being spoken with a mussed fringe and steadily reddening cheek, “Yes of course I just-,”

“I believe your parents had a run in with Dr Desmond Styles, the boy’s Father am I right? Your Dad in particularly.”

A run in.

If you count Desmond stealing Louis’ parents - not just his Father it was a joint business - the opportunity for them to earn several thousands of pounds, rotating it to their favour which furthermore resulted in his Father's demotion then yes, they had a run in. All the while, Des did it with a smile on his face and told him to step up his game because the people know what they want. Any spawn of that has been given a wrong footing in life and Louis had the ill displeasure of going to college for one year with the twat.

He coughed into his fist, “Uh, yeah.”

“Hm. They’re not on best of terms I understand.”

“Not, um. No. They’re not.”

“Shame, two great men are your Fathers.” Louis’ gotten lost in reliving the hell of their short encounters that he’d forgotten the actual point of the phone call. Thankfully Gary veered pretty quickly. “However, I trust this won’t bleed into your professionalism with his Son. You two are familiar?”

Familiar. He was more than familiar with Harry pissing Styles.

“Right.”

“Louis.”

“Sir.” He regretted the decision to mock his tone only a pip.

There was a sigh. Too often Gary, man of 43, Husband and Father of two, had felt like he’d adopted a third in the form of a 24 year old with the petulance of a child and is often tone deaf to anyone who’s opinion opposes his own.

“It’s not because we think you’re doing a poor job.”

“Yeah I know, of course, I know why-,”

“-it’s _because_ ,” Gary interrupted pointedly, causing Louis’ eyes to close slowly, “the workload is heavier than predicted, what with the new builds in Bluewater and the Langley’s. We want someone whom you can share that load with, so you can take a step back when you need to. Besides, he’s very experienced in managerial roles and knows this company inside out, what with the co founder being his uncle. He’s passionate. Just like you.”

“Isn’t he like, eighteen or some shit.”

There was a laugh, fond but cut short with a cough, “Language Tomlinson.”

“Sorry.”

“He’s twenty two an-,”

“-and he has plenty of experience and Isaac is his uncle blah blah blah yeah, I know.”

There was another laugh and Louis found it weirdly infectious, snorting a little into the receiver, “This is going to be interesting.”

“I promise I won’t bite.”

“You better not, we need Styles and more importantly so do you.”

“So, what, he’s the _official_ boss or just co-running sort of thing?”

“No he’s the boss.”

“Big boss?”

Gary hummed, “Top dog.”

“So he’s taking over me?”

“For now, yes. You will be his deputy.”

“So I have to do what he says.”

“For the foreseeable future, yes. That’s how the hierarchy goes. Do I have to explain it in further detail Louis?”

Louis grit his teeth, ran his hand through his already terribly bothered hair and aimed for his best cheer when he replied, “When does he start?”

 

*

 

Three days had passed and zero more had been said about this elusive new boss coming in to take over. And that’s all he was to the rest of the office - the nephew of Isaac. Louis had failed purposely to inform them of their past acquaintance, thinking it would be much better this way to keep things as far from messy as they can be.

Gary had told him that the plan for Harry to come in was to take effect immediately so the fact he’d been a no show for three whole days was a little concerning and although Louis really didn’t ache with sorrow from his absence, it made him a little anxious. Not knowing what’s going on really stuck in his core. He needed to know what, how, when, who and who with and if that all fails then what’s plan B.

Order. It’s all about, order.

So when Tuesday morning rolls around, the office ticking by at it’s usual pace when there are no pressing deadlines for a couple of days, people were less than prepared when an unfamiliar face appeared through the floor to ceiling glass doors, a couple of bound paperwork held in one hand, sunglasses still on, smacking his mouth together on a gum that _should_ look obnoxious but sort of looked, dreamy, on him.

“Uh,” Laura was sorting through refreshing the magazines on the table in the reception area when she spotted the tall stranger, nearly letting them slip, “h-hello sir. May I help you?”

“Laura,” He looks over to her, half a smile creeping onto his features, eyes still hidden behind his blacked out shades, “so nice to meet you, Harry Styles.”

He held out his hand, three out of the five fingers were sporting rings.

His voice was deep. So deep.

And his introduction was somewhat backwards if you think about it but she tried not to, quickly forgiving him because his manner was so entrancing. She fluttered her gaze from the large upturned hand to his face which now had a large smile, gum being forgotten in favour of gracing her with a set of astonishing teeth.

“Mr Styles, oh my goodness hi,” Getting over the appearance of the man before her rather quickly, she let her _brain_ take back control, “yes of course, pleasure’s all mine. Um, oh this is exciting. Follow me!”

She took his offered hand, shook it promptly and nearly cooed at how firm it was. She flapped around a little with the magazines, splaying them the best she could in under three seconds and readjusted her skirt. In the meantime, Harry pushed his glasses up to sit atop his head, making the short strands stick up at odd angles.

“Just this way,” She was smiling, a giggle decorating her voice for no reason at all, as he held out his hand for her to lead the way. With her back turned she rolled her eyes, replaying the last embarrassing minute over and over in her mind. “Mr Tomlinson is busy taking a phone call right now but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you waiting in his office while he finishes up.”

Harry thanks her and steps into said office when she knocks twice and opens the door. She smiles again and steps away, leaving him inside.

“Mr Tomlinson…” Harry mutters to himself, amused by its ring.

 _Mr Tomlinson_ , was sat at the desk, not facing him. He was on the phone, like Laura had said but was obviously too engaged in the conversation he were having to even bother to look up and greet his visitor.

Harry’s footsteps were slow, the heels of his brown boots clicking evenly as he drew towards the centre, admiring the view out of the landscaping window to the far left. He’d been in here only once and that was when the place was first being built. Until this moment he’d only seen a picture of the finished product, listened to Isaac gloat about the efficiency and elegance of the space they’d created yet only now could he appreciate - and agree - on all of it.

“…It wasn’t a far cry from what they asked for but they’re hung up on details… no that’s exactly what I’m saying, I am too. They’re paying for something to be done a certain way and just because you think it doesn’t matter does not justify you doing it half hearted.”

As much as he were enjoying taking in the tranquil environment, there was one thing piercing it and unfortunately, it was the reason he were here in the first place. Harry came to a stand directly at the other side of the wide table, heels scuffing as he stopped.

Louis must’ve remembered someone had actually entered, letting his hand fall from his face to throw a small glance over his shoulder, gaging the dark figure stood expectantly behind him.

“…If you want to get paid I suggest you do so yes b-,” He still didn’t turn fully, looked like he were about to but something the person on the other end must’ve got him riled and he turned back, “Are you willing to bet your job on that Joshua?… No? Because I can call Stan right now if you like.”

Harry found himself smirking, fingers readjusting around the binders hung in his hand.

Louis hadn’t changed a peep.

But then he spun round in his chair and those blue eyes stayed true to their shade and struck like lightening when landing on the man before him. Pink lips, small but perfectly shaped, fish mouthed a little as he drank in the attire. Chocolate suede boots, tight grey jeans that left absolutely nil to the imagination, tailored grey tweed blazer with a loose check plum shirt open enough that Louis wondered why he even bothered. Cross. Rings. Sunglasses.

Harry fucking Styles.

“I… yes. Do that.” Louis slapped his lips together, grinding his teeth together to ensure they stayed shut. “I have to go. I want to hear good things only.”

It didn’t surprise him when Louis hung up and didn’t bother looking back at him, shuffling the loose papers to his side instead when he practically yawned, “Finally decided to show your face I see.”

“Aw. I’ve missed you more Louis.”

Louis smacked the bottom of the sheets so they aligned and looked up at him, “Funny.”

“You were expecting me at an earlier date?”

“I got news three days ago and heard nothing since, radio silence. And yet now,” Louis made sure to rake his eyes deliberately slow over his body, “here you stand. No warning, no phone call, no nothing.”

Harry grinned and for a moment, Louis couldn’t tear his eyes away. He walked over to the rubbish bin next to the coat hanger and spat his gum into it without a word and sniffed. He made a bee line to Louis’ position and let the folders in his hand fall to the desk with a dull smack, “Well I’m here now so. Let’s not cry about it.”

He found himself to be a little lost as to what to do for the smallest second, looking between those alarmingly sharp eyes and dopey smile. He dropped his head, shifted in his seat to push it back so he had a little more room between him and this barbarian. Louis’d honestly never seen jeans so tight in his life.

Nor thighs so solid.

“Better late than never.” Louis shoved a bank book into the top drawer, clucking his head to the side, “Actually…”

Annoyingly, Harry laughed, shouldered off his blazer, Louis sort of just hypnotised by the action the whole while. He hung it up of the coat hanger, clearly comfortable enough already and peeled the sunglasses off his head to slot them into the gaping front of his shirt.

“Reckon we should get down to figures straight away then yeah?”

Thing is Harry was still Harry. Still obnoxious, still walking around like he were God’s gift when really he’s Satan’s scourge. But he’d grown, for sure. He’d alway been tall, always been long and broad boned and had an awkward sense of style that shouldn’t work but did. But he’d grown into it all now, sort of smoothed over his own quirks and owned them. His hair was much shorter now, neat and his clothes were snug from the bulk of lean muscle underneath. He was somewhat, _refined_.

“Erm,” It came out too high pitched for Louis liking, shooting across to still Harry’s massive paw from messing up the pile of _super_ organised lists he’d concocted for the following week’s billings, “If you don’t mind keeping your hands to yourself. Also,” He sat back down when Harry eventually raised his hand in mock defence, “shouldn’t you already know the specifics?”

“Oh yeah,” But yeah he was arrogant alright, full of himself, full of shit and nothing had changed and Louis gripped the underside of his desk again as he sat on one of the chairs and plucked a pen from his strictly organised stationary tidy, “just wanted to double check you do.”

This is going to be the longest two months of Louis’ life. If he makes it out alive, sane and free of homicidal violations then he’d honest to God be impressed.

 

*

 

The day pushed on and introductions were made to the whole office. Harry taking his time to go around and shake the hand of every single member of staff respectively, whilst Louis refrained from vomiting.

They were four hours into their first working day together and so far Louis’d only screamed - internally - once, when Harry had proved him wrong on the distance from North London to the The Lake District. In front of the whole office. Trying to be humble about it all as Louis visibly fizzed and claimed it was only because he coincidentally had to make the journey there every Summer as a child and the long car journeys got boring.

Louis makes no secret of his distaste towards Harry.

That one minor setback already had his mind in overdrive as to what he was going to do about it. He could already feel the effects of his reign slipping through his fingers, Harry’s doing the pulling from the other end. They hadn’t cleared one day with each other and Louis was already tired.

“I hate him.”

Jean scoffed at the declaration, “You don’t even know him.”

“Did you not just _listen_ , to anything I just said to you?”

Louis rolled his head round to face him, lolled back and exhausted in one of the leather seats. The office was slowly emptying as the day was drawing to a close. Only him, Jean, Laura and Craig were left. Oh and Harry. The cleaner would be here any moment.

“I did,” Jean sighed, looked at Louis with a knowing turn, “but I think you may be holding a grudge.”

No.

“Oh you don’t get it,” Jean was probably the only person he could be this loose around, this _himself_ out of everyone there.

“I do though and I know you,” He swatted Louis around the head with a notepad, “far too well.”

Louis glared, pouted as he rubbed his head but really couldn’t be bothered to pretend to scowl long enough so he plonked his head back down, a long sigh puffing out his wet lips. “Okay I admit I may be partial to holding a grudge.”

“You invented the term.”

“But,” Louis held up a finger, so tired his wrist nearly flopped from the exertion, “you have to believe me when I say he is a foul creature. Just like his Dad. Arrogant, snarky, broody. _Too_ flirtatious which is just gross and he seems to have grown another layer of something that I haven’t figured out yet.”

"I-," Jean paused, deciding to divert, openly amused, "-a flirt? Really?"

Louis ignored him, swallowing and scoffing. Why a response was vacant he didn't know.

“My freshly baked lemon puff, my sweetest rose. I say this with the kindest intention,” Jean leant forward over his knees so he were close, “I think you have a crush.”

That however, got Louis' energy levels magically spiked. " _What?_ Harry? Harry Styles are you- yeah okay." He was laughing a little too much, looked over his shoulder to the office Harry was currently occupying finishing off the day's filing, "we're talking about the same person right?"

Jean needed to say nothing. So he did exactly that, sitting back with a smile that drove Louis up the wall.

Scoffing a final time he rolled his head back to centre, “No you just wait. I’ll make him walk. One way or another. I don’t care what you say Gautier, he’s bad news.”

 

*

 

“Black please, one splenda.”

“White, one and a half sugars.”

“Tea for me- milk no sugar.”

Louis repeated the orders to himself as he strode briskly down the side aisle, ticking off everybody’s orders in his mind. They never change so he pretty much knew what they wanted by now but it was more out of habit why he does this. And that fact, on it’s own, was quite sad. He may be second in line to becoming manager but yes he _still_ gets the coffee. In the morning, throughout the day, in fact whenever Laura or that new intern Nina that Harry dragged in with him were busy, he was the runner.

But no one made it quite like he did so as much as it takes a knock to his ego, secretly he’d squirm if it were any other way. Especially if Craig were left to the job. That stuff looked and tasted like dishwater.

It wasn’t exactly a staff room, more of a luxury lounge. It reminded Louis of the VIP lounges you get in airports for premium boarders and first class, with the long sofas, 55” television, the espresso machine, fresh fruit being delivered daily and stacked in the glass bowl. There was a stainless steel fridge and the work surface was granite too. Their entire office was designed for luxury and prestige, practicality was an after thought. They do after all, work on appearances so anyone visiting their establishment would expect no less but it was still a bit on the opulent side.

Catching the fridge door with his hip just before it shut, Louis realised he were humming to himself, something his ears picked up from the nearly silent radio tucked away in the corner.

Plucking the soy milk from the shelf he grabbed the regular and walked over to plonk them next to the array of mugs and cups, adjusting the volume nozzle so he could hear it properly. The chugging and humming of the espresso machine came to a stop and he removed the cup, replacing it with another as he started to lightly sing along, turning around with a little more gusto than normal, whipping the spoons out of the draw in an over dramatic fashion-

“Is it too late to join the party?”

One of the spoons dropped and clattered horribly on the laminate floor as Louis spun around to match the face to the voice.

“Jesus-,” The spoon was retrieved quickly, his dignity however, “-for an eleven foot oaf you don’t half move quietly.”

Louis returned to placing the spoons next to the mugs, aligning them carefully as he did so. He chose to ignore the amused stare it rendered from said oaf.

“This,” Harry motioned to the radio, turning it down much to Louis’ scruple, “is louder than any footsteps. I could hear it from Tasmin’s desk. ”

“Well I’m sure she was overjoyed that it drowned you out.”

Louis made a point of not acknowledging him as he pushed further into the small kitchen area and came up practically behind where he were, reaching up to the cabinet above his head.

“Can you- _oh my G-_ ,” Louis begun, offended by default as Harry just reached over his head as if he weren’t even there, “are you forgetting something?”

Harry passed the plate from one hand to the other, looking confused for a second with a small pout.

“Oh you’re right I’m sorry,” He placed his heels back on the ground, still drowning Louis’ by those few inches and nodded, “salad wrap please.”

Louis stared at the white plate being held out, then back up to Harry’s dead panned, non-jesting face as if he just presented him with the instructions on how to overthrow the US government. “Sorry?”

“I forgot you were the coffee boy.” Harry smiled a little, eyes glistening with a satisfaction he wasn’t going to expose, “Everyone’s been telling me how you make the best sandwiches.”

The kettle clicked and neither men moved. The plate was still being offered.

“And you are my deputy so, you do what I tell you.”

The wink was too much.

Louis snatched the damn plate and placed it on the side. He had no idea why he wasn’t putting up a fight about this or why he was even entertaining it but those were questions that’d have to wait until later as he were too busy rummaging around in the fridge again, throwing a quick, “ _Move_ ,” to Harry as he opened the door fully.

“Lettuce, tomatoes, no cucumber, olives - plenty of olives,” Harry took one of the cups that Louis’d prepared for someone else and poured his own coffee preference in, “low fat mayo with some feta, please.”

The sound of the water filling up the cup was setting fire to Louis’ nerves. Everything about this man scorched his rare sane thoughts. He has a vendetta against him, obviously. Yet he carries it out so passive aggressively, fits in the jabs and low frequency taunts so seamlessly that no one notices it. And when no one else it around, Louis seems to become his own personal chew toy and technically, _technically_ , Louis can’t do anything about it.

“Oh and no avocado,” Harry makes a mildly disgusted face before taking a tight sip of the dark liquid.

Louis let his wrists fall atop the side, “Anything else m’Lord?”

He leant against the kitchen side, watching the television play out the BBC news on the other wall. He wasn’t paying that much attention to it. Louis delivered a harrowing glare that was wasted, eyes dropping to take in the long line of idiocy. Casual idiocy. A old grey tattered t-shirt, jeans _with rips_ and jet black boots wasn’t even nearly the formality required by a ‘manager’ yet there he is.

“Yeah sling a bit of ham in there too.”

“Do you even have time to eat?” Louis finished layering a tomato, wiping the blade pointedly on a towel before using it to chop up some olives.

Harry responded after a short pause, eyes still stuck to the screen as if he were engrossed, “…What, do you mean?”

And maybe, that was why he were going along with this ridiculous slavery anyway. Because Louis knew he’d already cashed in on a point, something that would throw Harry’s entire schedule off centre.

“The Langley’s are coming in twenty minutes?”

He’d changed the appointment without telling Harry. The joy of pencilling dates instead of using ink. He knew that by pushing it forward two hours and double booking him later, he would miss one of the most important bookings of the month. Isaac would be furious. Gary would have an aneurysm. They would both be appalled if Harry didn’t show up to the Langley’s and therefore think if he couldn’t manage a basic day to day diary then how is he going to run an entire office? It wouldn’t land him a dismissal, but it would be a massive stepping stone in that direction and Louis inwardly thrived at the thought.

“Oh you thought it was half one too?” Harry tore his eyes away then, meeting the side of Louis’ face that was slowly dropping a smile.

“That’s- it’s in the diary as one thirty,” Louis frowned, not gracing Harry with a look as he raised onto his tiptoes to grab the cayenne pepper, “it’s been like that for weeks.”

The flash of skin revealed with his stretch didn’t go a miss for Harry, gripping his mug a little tighter before pulling his heavy gaze back to the television. He’d learnt long ago it was best not to stare. “Well it’s a good job I called everyone first thing this morning to double check.”

Louis’ heels hit the ground as hard as his heart hit his stomach, “You did?”

He froze with the spice mid air, head turned towards Harry.

“Yep,” He hissed as he swallowed another generous mouthful, lips pulled tight.

Well.

Either Harry was the luckiest, most efficient bastard on earth to triple check meetings that shouldn’t have to be triple checked after Louis’d already informed him such things had been done days prior to, or, he was playing dumb and was onto him.

Both options were equally irritating, yet the latter was perhaps a little unsettling. Harry was never good at hiding emotions back in college, always loud and easy to pull a reaction from. So this was odd.

“Right, so…”

“Four,” Louis jumped as Harry turned to him abruptly, “the meeting’s at four.”

Louis moved back to accommodate his slow approach, surveying the finished wrap in front of him. He clipped the cap on the pepper and swallowed as Harry stayed there for a second longer than he should’ve, just looking at his custom made meal.

“Thank you Louis.”

Louis nodded, slowly at first. “You’re-,”

“Oh before I forget,” Harry picked his plate up and turned to him, still far too close that got Louis leaning back a little, “I moved your Castleford viewing forward an hour.”

It took Louis a few strenuous breaths, somehow having gotten caught up in the pull of material across his chest, to nonchalantly blink and raise his chin, “Hm- sorry?”

“Castleford. I changed it to two.”

" _Two?_ "

Harry nodded, made sure he heard him. "Two."

Made sure he damn well saw him and was able to enjoy the expression that bled onto his delicate little features then as it dawned. Louis’ eyes widening as they checked the time on the clock hung above the door just over Harry’s shoulder.

A quarter past one.

He had forty five minutes to get somewhere that took thirty five. And he’s here making coffee and a fucking wrap and all the time Harry knew.

Louis was ignorant to the pleasure unravelling in Harry’s gut at the sight of him. But Harry wouldn’t allow himself to indulge too far, already backing away and turning to leave with a fixed half smile slapped onto his face as he left a bewildered looking Louis.

“Didn’t think you’d mind being so you’re so efficient with your timings and all.”

His voice lingered, just like his cologne, thick and consuming as the door closed itself and Louis didn’t have time to think on what this meant. There was no way he could’ve known Louis’d altered the time last minute yet this little fiasco is provoking his ignorance to believe otherwise. The beverages were forgotten.

 

 

*

 

The tickle in his neck didn’t go away when he scratched it.

Nor did it budge when he pulled his sweater over his knuckles to bunch it up and rubbed the heel of his hand over the niggling ache.

“Sake…” Louis winced, rolling his head as he tried to iron out the strain that felt like it were residing along his pulse point, the pain amplifying every time he swallowed.

Puffing out a breath of air through his lips, he licked them when they felt a little tight and glanced at the glass clock on the far wall behind him. It was nearly five and no managers had reared their heads all day. He was interested in only one, really, but any would’ve been better than a complete no show. Because even if he didn’t get to physically witness the horror that he’d caused, if he didn’t get to see the panic that had taken it’s place over the usual stoic self indulgent embodiment of narcissism himself, then hearing about it from a close colleague would shape up to be an acceptable second place.

He was damn satisfied with himself is what he was. Giving the all clear to Jean and co. as he swung past their desks earlier had thus far been the highlight of his day. Seeing the elated grins and excited gasps as he told them exactly how he did it was one thing, but the thought of seeing Harry’s face when he decides to turn in at whatever o’clock is going to be extraordinary.

_“Louis are you mad? First the meeting now this? You realise you could be fired-,”_

_“-Yeah but it’s not me who it’s going to trace back to is it? I used Harry’s ID, it’s all on him.”_

_Laura shook her head, still smiling while Jean buried his face in his palms._

_“You realise this could seriously effect us and not just him.”_

_“Oh no don’t worry about that, I printed out a copy of the actual schedules and codes for all the jobs, so we can carry on working on them as planned while they clean up the technical end and by clean up I mean give Harry the boot.”_

_“Mad. Absolutely bonkers.”_

Now if he were to be quite honest, Louis may be a technical genius but yesterday was no easy feat. He can admit he was sweating. There was a level of anxiety that slowly rose throughout the hours as they counted down to his window of opportunity. And the very least he expects for his efforts of hacking the CEO’s files is a look of a completely destroyed, sleep deprived, baffled and utterly screwed, Harry Styles.

“Louis.” Ah. The voice that could belong to no other.

Although his fingers froze he bothered not with turning any part of his body or attention towards him, keeping his butt firmly planted and his eyes fixed forward, sniffing softly as he glanced over the words in front of him, not taking a single one in.

“Louis.”

A figure before him shifted. A face that Louis couldn’t make out in his peripheral turning towards the voice that he were ignoring.

He’d rather swallow fire or cry blood before he admitted to flinching when a hand slapped down onto his desk then.

“Unfortunate family trait that,” Louis swallowed the after affect of his _barely there_ jump, peering to the hand then up to the pair of sharp eyes that bore into him from above, “-selective hearing.”

Pink lips popped open for some sort of response, but his eyes fell down to that hand again, the skin on the knuckle of his thumb turning white where it gripped the lip of the desk almost as if he needed it for leverage, like it were the only thing holding him to the spot. Louis’ brows twitched inwards when he noted the minuscule ruptures on reddened knuckles. Those were new.

All things considered, Louis was pretty daft. He’d been playing a stupid game because his co workers had joked about the entire thing and Louis being Louis thought it was actually a solid plan. And there was a minor history of turbulence between the Tomlinson and Styles that really had nothing to do with him, nor did it affect him directly, nor _will_ it at any point in the future. Not only this, but this game he was playing involved pissing off someone who was quite obviously broader, taller and just on the whole a lot bigger than Louis has ever been in his entire existence. So, there’s that. Therefore all things considered, he was diving head first at the shallow end.

“Oh,” This however, didn’t mean he was going to be sensible and back down any time soon though, “you’re early.”

“Save your tongue.” Harry wasn’t impressed or looking like he was going to be offended by some mere wit, already straightening up and scanning over the scattered desks at the various faces staring back when he added, “My office, now please.”

Tapping the rubber on the end of the pencil he were holding, Louis pouted, watching broad shoulders shift under a - _oh for all things ridiculous_ \- a cream satin shirt. He grimaced as he watched long fingers push back through the thick hair on top and decided to abort any comeback as he were too far away now anyway.

“ _Now!_ ”

Louis failed to hide the flinch so efficiently this time.

Dropping his pencil he snapped his head to the voice - finally _cracking_ the ache in his neck - that had barely raised an octave to summon him yet carried over with such throaty abrasiveness it whipped up the attention of everyone it passed.

Muttering under his breath about how technically it wasn’t even _his office_ , he shoved his pencils to the side of the desk and sighed as he rolled up his drawing, snapping an elastic band around it to keep it in place and placed this too, at the side with the rest. He ignored Jean’s amused smirk, Louis practically feeling his glittering stare as he raised and followed in the beast’s footsteps.

“Shut up.”

A matured man of 24, Louis swiped the set of pens clean off of his desk as he passed. Which only made his colleague chuckle louder.

He knew why he was so humoured. Knew that all this time, Louis’d acted like he didn’t care. That Harry Better Than You Styles could take a hike if he thought he could intimidate him with his big hands and big voice and big fucking looming presence that just never fucks off even though he barely speaks five words per hour. Just because Louis flinched, which, he would remind Don Jean dick-head over there of later, is a natural human response to surprise of any kind, did not mean he was in any way afraid of Daddy boy Styles. He was not being whittled down by any of his antics or weird silent communicative behaviour. No reverse psychology or whatever mind games he was playing would get the better of him. Not today not ever.

He didn’t even wait after he knocked to enter, just sort of combined the two as he sashayed into the room.

“Okay so this is the third time this week you’ve had me in here alone.” Louis sounded bored already, lolling his head to the side as he leant into the handle, “People might start to talk.”

Harry hadn’t even faced him, “Door, please.”

Louis obliged, un bothered to keeping quite about any of it as he pulled it closed shut behind him. He walked across the polished floor, looking at the reflection of the spotlights in it as he covered ground into the wide space before him. It always smelt of what it looked like in here; wood and money. Being a design firm it would be ridiculous if it were anything short of ‘architectural digest’ worthy and this room alone he was sure cost more than the office space it over looked. The ceiling was high, the walls made of solid mahogany that complimented the colossal table that Harry was stood behind at present. All lines were fluid and nothing was ever out of place and it always had that same smell.

But right now there was something else added to the mix and Louis was very much enjoying it up until the point where he realised exactly what it was. And that point came when two boots clicked their way into his personal space and he fought against closing his eyes at the scent that came with it, ballooning around him in it’s thick amber headiness.

Prada.

“Open.” Louis screamed internally when he realised he actually _had_ closed his eyes, “Hold.”

His knees near enough buckled from the stack of papers and folders that were slammed into his chest, arms grappling to get a decent enough hold so they wouldn’t paint the floor.

“ _Oh_ -,” He just about managed to wrap his arms around the infuriating load, fingers sheet white and coiled around the edges as he fought to hold them in place, “I- um…,”

“All of that, is the correspondence that I need filing and sorting from those 43 hotels.”

Louis’ heart picked up.

“But, I-,” How could this even be happening? He’d made sure to cancel the orders, Harry should be stressed and making several anxiety doused phone calls right now, possibly sitting in a puddle of his own piss right now. “I don’t understand, there shouldn’t be-,”

Harry stopped on his way back to the desk, “Pardon?”

He turned around looking a vision of ease as he leant against the front of it, crossing his ankles and arms, biceps full and eyes hard. Although his face lacked any tell tale signs, he knew he had him. Louis’ heart was still thrumming, stead fast and nauseating at the green slicing through him.

“It’s- I didn’t expect there to b-be-,” The stutter was new. He cleared his throat and raised his chin, voice consequently a little higher than usual as he returned a feathery gaze, “Bookings don’t usually require this many enquiries.”

He frowned then, feeling a layer of the paper slipping out and juggling his grasp so it’d stay put, “-um, Harry, could you, maybe-,”

“Well yes, but you see the strangest thing happened last night,” Harry pushed on, ignoring Louis’ physical struggle as he kept his voice level and his eyes even steadier, “my phone didn’t stop ringing from 5 onwards, well into the early hours. Apparently all orders were cancelled and the dates had been double booked for the following three months, which, you know, I thought was most peculiar because I was sure to double check these all before I made any more arrangements,” He paused, sighing as Louis swallowed and adopted a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks, “Made sure I studied my Uncle’s regimented diary before I even agreed to taking the job.”

Harry’s eyes slipped down to the strained forearms gripping desperately around the copious amounts of paper, barely balancing the binders in between. He continues watching as Louis’ feet take a step to compensate for his imbalance, as he bounced the stack against his chest, cradling them against his torso as if he were holding on for dear life. Flustered, was the only word that came to the forefront of Harry’s mind. And flustered was what Harry wanted.

“Anyway,” He sniffed and raked his hair back, coming to stand at his full height as he leisurely walked around the desk to sit in the leather chair, “editing out the boring details, I managed to salvage it. Luckily Uncle Isaac changed the pin to access his files, _system malfunction_ , he said. Apparently it’d overwritten the communication and in doing so sent out emails to the wrong people, confirming dates and to all the others, cancelling the-,” Harry paused at the knock at the door, leaning back as he brought long legs to rest on top of the table, the silver of his buckles clunking as his ankles crossed again, “Yes?”

Nina, the petite intern, fresh faced and far too eager, came bustling in with an unsure smile and a steaming cup of liquid.

“Sorry to interrupt Mr Styles but - your coffee?”

“Thank you Nina,” He lifted a hand to show her where to put it but she was already there, near black, sleek pony tail swishing as she went.

“Black, two sugars.”

“Perfect,” Harry hummed, a small smile making a cheek dimple as she placed it on the nearest coaster on the side desk and hurried back out, apologising again with a small smile and blushed cheeks.

Louis didn’t know whether to be thankful or annoyed she hadn’t acknowledged him. Perhaps it was for the best. Would’ve probably gotten a squeak out at best with the lump forming in his throat. The dread that is a dead weight in the pit of his stomach. He huffed through his nose, palm growing sweaty now as Harry shifted his shoulders into the leather and looked at Louis like he’d only just remembered he was there.

“Bottom line,” He brandished a long, ringed finger at Louis, “those gems need to be filed, returned and cleared by tonight.”

Louis would reward himself later for not dropping the pile right there and then, “Uh, _what_?”

Harry smiled tight. His dimple popped again and Louis wanted to stab it. “You heard.”

“You must be mad if you think- if you even _think_ that I have the time t-,”

“-A wise man would take that as his cue to leave.”

His narrowed eyes made their point, his smile relaxing into its usual set line. But Louis’ spirit rendered on. His defiance got him all but throwing the papers across the room, only from the fear of the several traumatic paper cuts he’d probably incur. Instead he scoffed, trod forward until he were at the opposite side of the great desk and let them fall there, the slam they made quite satisfying.

Louis prodded a finger on the top binder, “There is no way I can get these done by tonight. If you want there to be even a chance of these getting done, delegate. Split the job between at least three of us but you can wave bye bye to all hope of it getting completed by me.”

Harry, beyond Louis’ expectations, remained annoyingly calm. Seeming to take Louis and his defiance in his stride as he studied him, eyes never losing their day dream state on the boy, so lazy and loose but something about them still entirely consuming, constantly surveying.

Louis felt the shift in his own stomach when Harry arched his back a little to allow for a small crack in his spine, before sighing and rolling his head to do the same with his neck.

“I don’t much care for your opinions… you have a job you’re getting paid to do,” Louis followed the rotation of his head until it finally clicked and those emeralds landed on his own resolutely, “so go do it.”

All the fury in Hell wouldn’t rival Louis’ as of that moment.

Who does he think he is with his cocky tongue and haphazard shirts and conceited dictatorship? It’d been a long, slow cook to the inevitable clash but Louis fully intended for himself to be coming out the other end as victor. Not the other way around. He was not going to bow down or bend over to someone with so much already granted to him for nothing, with such ridiculous boots and atrocious sense of humour.

“Who the _fuck_ , do you think you are?”

Louis may have intended to keep that rhetorical question very much rhetorical and _very much in his head_.

However.

“I beg your pardon?”

He was pretty sure he could feel the blood capillaries drain of all such substance when Harry’s eyes grew a little wider. Louis drastically attempting to maintain his scowl instead of letting the absolute horror or realisation take over his face at what he’d just said out loud. Rain will pour from the ground before he apologises so he’s only really left with one option: style it out.

Louis chose to ignore how those eyes hardening and his voice somehow getting even deeper, something everyone here thought impossible, made his nerves tremor. Licking his lips, he readjusted his footing and reiterated his point by prodding the pile of paper again, “You’re asking for the impossible.”

“I am asking you, to do your job.”

Louis shook his head, a humourless laugh, “It’s absurd and you know it.”

“Define,” Harry pulled his legs off the desk too fast for things so lengthy, “ _absurd_.”

Games. Styles is a fan of games.

Fantastic.

He rolled his eyes, taking the deepest breath of all to dampen any more clever retorts that will most definitely cost him his job and set his jaw at the sight of Harry’s back, head ducking to sip his coffee from the other table.

“This. This is absurd.”

A hum reverberated from his throat, turning around with a forefinger hooked through the handle as he licked his lips, “Wrong.”

“What?”

“Try again.”

Eyeing him carefully, Louis could feel the tick tock of his patience in the centre of his chest. Along with the feeling that something was brewing from his partner too, something a little more hefty perhaps. But he wasn’t going to let it shake him off, Harry was clearly a fan of mind games. Child.

“Harry-,”

“-pardon?”

“…I-,” Louis just about growled when he interrupted again.

“- _pardon?_ ”

Harry was stood the other side of the desk, cup still comfortably hooked on his finger, the steam looking royal as it rose before his face adding a not so needed smoulder to the glare being delivered through it. Louis met it. Eye for eye. Fists balling at his sides from the frustration of it all. From the frustration of him.

“What.”

To top it off. Louis swore on his dead cat’s grave he saw the birth of a smirk play on his lips. Taking another sip of his drink before placing it down, he took a sharp breath between his teeth and placed both hands before him. Leaning into them, he took a few long seconds to look like he were thinking about what he was about to say.

“You will address me as sir, from this moment forth.”

Scoffed, wouldn’t cover it. Louis was caught between spluttering and stifling several laughs and choking on a very sound ‘fuck you’ he’s been shackling since six days ago, before he took the fifth double take at a very serious-looking Harry. “You- nope. No way. You can't do that.”

“Oh but I can. I can also have your job with,” He snapped his fingers, “one phone call.”

Louis' chest was burning. “What are you playing at?”

“Would you like me to define absurd for you, Louis?”

There were several things Louis would like and none of them involved Harry speaking to or within several hundred square metres of him.

“No,” Louis gasped, covering his mouth, “I mean, _sir_.”

Harry nodded, pressing his lips for a second as he let his eyes trail down the length of Louis’ body. Tight and rigid. Harry wanted to destroy every last knot that was wrung so taut.

He leant a little further into his wrists, stomach dipping a little when he saw the swallow in Louis’ throat, the falter in his eyes.

“Absurd, is how you would go behind your boss’s back, under the radar, change the encryption codes to the companies secured files - those of which are only accessible by the CEO himself and his deputy and furthermore, yourself, under current circumstances. You, the person they have entrusted with the passcode to these files. You, the person who Gary has passed down all responsibilities to. You,” His eyebrows rose and Louis’ throat couldn’t swallow enough to compensate for the dryness settling along his throat, “who he trusts will run this office while he is away and thus trusting you to be adult enough to allow me to come in and aid you.”

He continued, after a pause that felt too long. Long enough for every abrasive vowel to sink into Louis’ steadily clamming skin.

“But what’s really absurd, is that you would risk you _career_ , all of this,” A hand waved through the air to encompass the weight of the sentence, “just to try and calumniate my - your newly appointed boss' - reputation, furthermore the company’s. All because of a petty, minor, daddy issue.”

If there were words, they were running off with their tails between their legs.

For every inch of him that hated Harry, there was a layer underneath that, forming an unreadable emotion. An interest that peaked with a fear he’d never admit.

The voice he spoke in next, in the space Harry was allowing, was small. “How did you…”

He couldn’t meet his eyes, was rather drawn to those red raw knuckles again. He only knew he was moving because his hyperawareness of all things Harry, regardless of his cowardly inability to meet his eyes; his ears picked up on the leather boots clicking his weight around to his side of the table, the skin that was exposed felt the small gush of air, his nostrils were infiltrated by that cologne and it was all he could do to not place a hand on his torso with the proximity of it, eyes still tacked to a large hand hanging by his side.

“You were intelligent enough to hack the system, but forgot about the CCTV. The images go straight there, you know that.”

Louis blinked away the wetness in his eyes, blurring his features for a breath or two. It wasn’t tears, just probably hadn’t blinked for some time, the entirety of his body brought to a stand still as it tries to absorb what’s happened.

“Don’t fret, I got to them before Isaac. One might say you owe me.”

His worst nightmare had come true. The shittiest scenario had presented itself and was brandishing its wicked reality for Louis to cower before. Perhaps the hardest part to swallow, was that it was all a product of his own doing; if he hadn’t tried to run Harry up shit’s creak and frame him then this wouldn’t be happening. Harry wouldn’t be absolutely brimming on the inside - even though on the outside he was as passive and unreadable as ever - and have Louis by the balls.

“I…”

Louis ducked his head, blinking at the hand that was at his side a split second ago that was now lifting his chin back up to force him to look him in the eye.

“Now,” His voice was something formidable this close, so low it _felt_ heavy in the space between them, “how about that paperwork?”

 

*

 

“Good morning minions.”

Yasmin held back a choke when she turned her head to the man who just walked in, wiping up a little bit of her semi-warm tea that dribbled down her neck as she stared in awe of the individual. Louis swivelled round just in time to catch her pitiful reaction and in time with a communal greeting of ‘mornings’ and ‘hello’s’. Showing minimal interest in anything Harry.

He finished off handing out the papers round the circle and went to park in his usual spot near the board, making a point of not meeting any eyes, focusing on that one seat that awaited his back side, safe and comfy in-

“Morning Louis.”

No one could see from the hidden angle, but Louis screwed his eyes shut and pursed his lips.

Muttering his reply quietly into the space which only he and Harry were sharing, he patted his seat cushion and sat down swiftly, flattening his messy fringe to the side with a huff.

“Pardon?”

Louis bit the inside of his cheek, flipping the stapled pages over in his hand until he reached the correct one and raised his head, “I said good morning… sir.”

Jean noticed. Of course. Under Satan’s law there would be no other.

He sat opposite Louis in the circle, picking up instantly on the term as Harry accepted it as if it were nothing new and turned to the interactive screen. He looked at Louis, utterly complexed and now Louis’d caught his eye he really couldn’t look away because it’d look even more obvious and so he just tipped his chin. When he mouthed ‘sir’ with a questioning look he pretended he couldn’t read his lips properly, the sole of his shoes becoming a sudden higher point of interest.

“So,” Harry clapped his hands, taking long strides into the centre of the arrangement, “the drafts have been submitted for the renovation and I’m happy to announce a meeting with the chairman and the Kustop’s reps, among others, is being held next Friday.”

Harry’s announcement was followed by an up roar of excitement, voices bustling and whispering until the man hushed them with two open palms.

“Let’s not get too excited, we still have a lot of work to do.”

Louis’ baby scoff didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“But the orders were completed and our blueprints are ready…” Louis barely flitted his head to the side, not really interested in what anyone was saying, turning it back in order to suppress a yawn as he took this idle chit chat as a window to observe.

He tapped his pencil on the armrest to a beat he didn’t recognise. It was probably annoying the person next to him but he also didn’t care.

This office was unlike the regular. An artists’ haven doesn’t require a suit and tie dress code like most but smart is the least expected. Comfortable, but formal. Both men and women still wear tailored items on some days, with ties and heels or thereabouts. But majority of days the typical uniform for Louis is a pair of slim fitting tailored trousers or really, _really_ smart black jeans and a shirt. Most of the time he’d wear black brogues which gave him the preppy look he adored. The times in which he must succumb to wearing his glasses when his eyesight really fucks him over it’s honestly the cherry on top. But some days, he’ll wear the above attire with maybe a fitted sweater and all black converse. As long as it’s sleek and it’s smart, he’s happy. The boss is happy, everyone is happy.

But then there’s Harry.

His attention was momentarily whipped from his daydream when the man asked him to pass the blue folder.

And if he didn’t hold it out far enough on purpose so he had to actually lean over awkwardly to grab it, earning him a _look_ , then well, Louis would deny it until forever and a day.

“So we have the final products for the base, if you look here…” His voice was slow and throaty. Perfect for a lullaby and Louis hated it.

Louis squinted, taking his bottom lip between his fingers as his mind drifted back to his line of thought.

Everything about _him_ was either harsh and loud or sluggish and despicably monotone. He was so predictable yet Louis was having the hardest time figuring him out.

He followed the movement of his spider limbs, more specifically his arms, as they pointed to the screen, assisting his words in an animated way. Who wears an Hawaiian print shirt in the winter? Apparently it was nearly spring but the temperature outside indicated it was very much still winter. And grey jeans. The small rips were as annoying as the fake pockets you get on fancy coats and they ruffled Louis rotten. He shook his head slowly, not knowing he was doing so, quite literally lost in his own thoughts as he quietly assessed his tan suede boots that shouldn’t ever be worn with such hideous prints but as ever, Harry lives by rules of his own when it comes to everything from common courtesy to fashion.

“Louis.”

“ _Louis._ ”

Blinking, he straightened up from the slump he’d relaxed into and peered around at the sea of faces staring back at him expectantly, some a little more irritated than others, having absolutely no idea who spoke his name.

“Sorry, um, sorry I-,” He licked his lips, looked to Harry for help, but of course none was given. Just a cocked eyebrow and weighted glare. “Who uh-?”

“Did you really delete _all_ the blueprints?”

Louis blinked again. Mark. “…no?”

“Look it’s not his fault-,” Harry soothed over any response, looking too sympathetic, voice too sunken and phoney.

“-you just said they were being held in the digital and Louis, being the _manager_ ,” Louis wanted to snap his fingers when he made quotation marks, “was in charge of them. So of course they were-,”

Harry brandished a hand, “Alright, just,” He took a sip of water from the tiny plastic cup that had magically appeared in his other and placed it back on Louis’ desk. Correction, _Louis_ ’ plastic cup. “Let’s just calm down. Louis’ been under a lot of pressure recently, which is why I stepped in…” He was pacing a small area, addressing the whole room but one, “these things happen-,”

“Pretty expensive mistake to make Sir,” Craig, a twenty year old fresh faced college graduate spoke up in the most confident voice Louis’d ever heard him employ, “we’re going to have to work for hours to regain that sort of progress.”

“Ah well,” Pointing a finger, only now did he flash Louis a small look. His insides rattled in pleasure when he saw just how horrified and confused he was. “I spent all of yesterday trying to piece together what I could and here,” Clicking the small remote in his hand once, several images appeared on the huge screen behind him, “is what I managed.”

Bullshit.

Absolute bullshit. Louis most definitely did _not_ delete any of those files - that wasn’t his aim. Deleting those wouldn’t just put Harry in the bad books, but the rest of the office several weeks behind on one of their biggest projects. He was adamant he didn’t touch them. Even by accident.

But the worst thing was, he couldn’t say a word. He had to go a long with it. Take the responsibility. If not, then it’s bye bye dream job.

“Harry this must’ve taken you…” Laura spoke in awe, leaning forward as she scoped out the excessive sketches on screen, detailed and precise, “you really got these done in just one day?”

“Of course,” His sudden coyness got Louis gripping the pencil he held a little too tight, “I’d rather get two hours sleep than have you guys take the brunt of it.”

“Dude.” Tristan, a boy Louis’d never favoured and now, probably definitely never will, nudged him and shook his head. “You need to be more careful.”

Message received loud and clear.

The pencil snapped and Harry looked up immediately, a smile in those green afflictions he dared not present fully. He followed Louis as he stood up abruptly and cleared his throat.

“I have to make a phone call.”

 

 

*

 

 

“Why is it, that you only call me when you’re up shit street?”

Louis answered him sincerely by necking the rest of his beer, slamming the bottle back onto the bar. He felt a little bad when it hit the wood and gingerly grabbed a mat to place it on instead.

“Will I ever get to see the old Louis?”

“Oh don’t-,” His face screwed up as if he’d just tasted something rotten, “don’t give me that. I’m just-,”

“Stressed.” Zayn nodded, tipped his own beer before chugging it and placing it gently on top of a folded napkin, “I get it. Like always.”

“This job though, it’s incredible. It’s not the job itself, it’s-it’s-,” Louis grabbed the air, throttling it, “it’s _him_.”

“I know the devils’ incarnate yes, you’ve said seventy one times.”

“I hate him.”

“Still can’t remember him though… you sure we’re the same age?”

“Yep. Oh believe me, he’s not exactly forgettable.” Louis had begun tearing the edges of his beer mat, jaw tenser than he’d like, “Absolutely not in a good way either.”

“Mate you hold so many grudges.”

“ _No I do no-_ ,” He stopped himself, holding up his hands in defence as Zayn chuckled, “You know what? Fine. Maybe I do. But this guy, he deserves it. He’s foul.”

“Styles…” Zayn repeated his name. Then again, looking up for a moment as if he were recalling a distant memory. Or trying to.

Louis’d declared a need for a strong ‘few’, that afternoon. The phone call he made was to Zayn who was himself in the middle of a particularly messy class and couldn’t hold the phone properly with his painted fingers and so entrusting his usually polite yet admittedly wild tempered friend, he toggled loud speaker in front of an entire class of students.

Twenty seconds in he realised how he couldn’t have made a worse decision. Louis diving head first into a rampage of how his knob head of an adopted boss needed several needles sticking in certain sensitive places and his skin peeling and slicing until he looked like a human kebab.

He quickly agreed to meet him tonight at the Rose and Crown, the usual, at eight.

“Harry Styles.”

“Yeah man, I honestly, I know the name but,” Zayn smiled at the bar tender, a guy around their age, brown eyes, short hair and tattoos up both his arms, “Uh… I can’t seem to-,”

Louis walloped him round the head with his half tattered beer mat. “Focus?”

He gushed, utterly embarrassed as he turned to look at Louis sporting a shit eating grin that made his eyes crease in the fashion that always allowed the fucker to get out of 99% of sticky situations. Zayn swatted his knee and threw a 2.3 second look back at the bartender who was already serving another customer.

“Dick.”

“Stop thinking about dick.”

Zayn hit him again and Louis giggled, trailing his finger around the rim of his bottle absentmindedly as he thought about whether it’d be easier if he just swam in vodka and got shit faced drunk so he could justify a sick day or just take it easy and show up with a brave face.

“Wait.” Zayn sat up straight, hands braced on the bar, “Wait.”

When nothing came but Zayn mouthing silently to himself he snapped his fingers.

“Harry Styles? He had like,” Weirdly motioning to his shoulders Louis frowned, “long hair in college right?”

“That’s him. You remember now.” Louis nodded, tipping his chin to the other bar tender, the one that to Zayn’s partial disdain, wasn’t occupying his friend’s filthier thoughts, “Two more please.”

“Super rich?”

“Oh fuck yeah.”

“Holy _shit,_ mate what a nut case. As if you have to work with him.”

Louis nodded, nearly humming in agreement until he realised he didn’t. “Wait, what?”

“Harry.”

“Yeah.”

“Nightmare.” Zayn shook his head.

Apparently he was unaware Louis lacked all mind reading ability and was in a very much one sided conversation.

“Zayn, what _about_ Harry?”

“Well he’s not exactly the tamest bloke in the world is he? Might piss you off but best be careful,” He smushed Louis’ face but Louis was far too caught up in what he didn’t know to care, “don’t want your sharp tongue getting you into something your face can’t handle.”

“Harry? He’s about as violent as a baby seal.” Louis guffawed, managed to pull his face back to normal in time to thank the tender for the two new bottles. “Moves like one as well.”

“Isn’t he like, six foot?”

“Yeah but,” Louis waved his hand, “doesn’t matter. I don’t think we’re talking about the same guy anyway.”

Louis took his new beer, enjoying how the condensation felt on his fingers as he watched the crisp vapour swim out the top of the neck before taking a quick sip. He was thankful he’d swallowed when Zayn shoved his phone screen before him, ordering him to look.

“ _Pretty boy Harry Styles, Son of a genius, temper of a beast. 21 year old cage fighter-_ ,”

He cared less about slamming the drink wherever it landed this time, snatching Zayn’s phone with both hands as he held it so close it may cause blindness.

He read on - and aloud - about the young man who’d become an underground sensation on the fighting scene, no one knowing where he’d come from originally; having turned up when he was 18 years old to just watch and observe fights before taking his first hit at it when he turned 19 as a beginner. It went on to explain how he excelled beyond the norm, had a serious knack for ground work, overpowering men twice his size with years of experience under their belt, putting it down to natural ability and commitment to his training.

Louis stared at the candid image of Harry stood bare chest with a bloodied face, hair pulled into a tight knot, braided underneath, staring across the ring at an opponent on the floor face down. His chest had ink, his arms too - further than he’d been able to witness before with his hideous shirts. Regardless of his absurd choice of attire, underneath it all was clearly not to be revelled with; just solid muscle, bulk that Louis couldn’t deny he hadn’t noticed but hadn’t really… _noticed_.

Zayn’s voice was the only thing that was going to get him to stop reading.

“Same guy, I presume.”

Louis swallowed. Lifted his head, ignored how his nape ached from being bowed for so long.

He looked at his friend unsure of what to say. “Yeah,” He passed him his phone back, staring at it, “Yeah.”

“I knew I heard the name. My roommate is an MMA obsessor and he’s spoke about him a couple of times,” He took one last glance at the screen before locking it and placing it on the side, “Said that he has a real temper issue, like real issue. It was around the age of eighteen, when he started going, shit went down at home- got too much for him or summat’. Guess that helped him let it out.”

Louis stared at the bubbles in his beer, stomach turning at the thought of taking another sip. “Anger issues?”

“Oh fuck yeah, major. Apparently he’s been in therapy for it and he’s only just gotten a handle on it,” Zayn stopped swirling his phone when the wet dream of a bartender passed by, shooting him a shy smile before continuing to add some ice to a cocktail mixer. He looked good in a waistcoat. “Either way, still wouldn’t want to chance it with him. Once you have that itch for violence it’s like anything isn’t it? Like an alcoholic. Just waiting for something to trigger the urge, never goes away.”

Equipped with this frightful new information, Louis’ brain scrambled. Plucking out every little jibe he’d thrown his way, every tiny effort he’d gone to to make his life a living hell and to get him to fold. He squirmed inwardly when he recalled the biggest fuck up of all. How he had him in his office, knowing that this was the guy who’d just gone and _seriously_ tried to screw him out of his job, rust his reputation.

“Oh God,” Louis leant his elbows onto the bar, running his hands through his hair, wishing his brain would just stop, “Oh my god.”

He was so calm with him. He’s always been so calm.

But then Louis remembered the knuckles. The hand slamming down on his desk - the minuscule insight to that deep rooted temper simmering under his disciplined exterior. If he pushed him any further then Louis would be risking a lot more than losing his job.

And that’s when it hit him.

“What’s wrong, what is it?” Zayn’s hand was on his shoulder, eyebrows drawn into a concerned slant.

“This is perfect.” Louis stared at the bottle before turning wide eyed to Zayn who didn’t looked convinced.

“…What is?”

His heart was racing with the vigor of a stampede, adrenaline high and wild, the feeling of being fearful about the unknown yet inexcusably driven by it an exhilarating medley. He laughed, shaking his head, “I know exactly what to do.”


	2. Chapter 2

The meeting was scheduled for 14:00, which got the whole office flapping because the blueprints for the renovation on Liverpool Street Station were still held up at the town hall.

Louis had finished emailing all the necessary recipients early that morning, not wanting to add anymore stress to the office. With his short but critical jobs for the third most important meeting this company has ever had out of the way, it meant he was free to fully immerse himself into the role he’d been hired a month ago to do: manage.

For over three hours he’d been floating around the office, assisting with drawings, correcting diagrams and helping his colleagues with different issues all regarding the renovation on one of London’s biggest railways stations. It was a big job, but that’s what their reputation had been built on. If it weren’t for the mayor having a friend of a cousin who worked in Hakasaan and recommended Thomas Murray’s design business to his PA in the first place, then they would probably still be a small time architectural firm scraping in little domestic jobs here and there. The big break landed them the platform - literally - they needed and their name circulated and the work accumulated; it started rolling in like dice on crack once the extension to the Mayor’s house was broadcast.

So being the first firm on the list of hot-to-trot designers for a London underground renovation was a tall order but Louis would be damned if he let it go to shit whilst he were overseeing operations. Well. Apart from that one minor little shit stain that accompanied him, he was in charge. Technically. In his mind.

“I still think they’re going to want it changing.”

“Look,” Louis sighed. Closed his eyes. Drew together what strings of sanity he could knowing he was about to repeat what he’d been saying all morning for the 76th time. “I know you’re worried, but these are just the fourth quarter measurements - nothing is for certain. The board could change it at any time, it’s under their discretion so out of all the things you should be focusing on, these here,” He used his fingers to tap the mousepad and highlight what he were talking about, “are the last. I know they seem important beca-,”

“-Louis my CAD has crashed again!”

It sounded like Mark, but he’d have to wait.

“Don’t touch anything,” He loosely motioned over his shoulder then looked back to Craig’s screen, “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Craig was looking between Mark and Louis, jogging his knee and biting the skin around his thumb, a nervous habit which for some reason Louis despised.

“Um. Yeah, like I said these are just minor issues b-,”

“Dude if I lose my work that’s over two months worth, gone.”

Craig saw the look on Louis’ face as he visibly pulled on those strings inside his head, swearing he could actually see him calm his inner strife when he turned and raised his voice a little more, “I understand, I really do but if you could just bear with me for _two_ more minutes.”

He made sure Mark heard, saw and understood him - ignoring the ignorant shake of his head - and turned around for the second time, giving the nervous wreck of a boy next to him a look which was half way to an apology and half ‘ _someone is going to die_.’

A small huff of a laugh got Louis looking at him, “It’s just, that’s the first thing the public are going to see-,”

“Why the fuck did Gary put you up as manager again?”

Craig paused, body frozen stock still mouthing a silent ‘ _oh my god_ ’, eyes looking from the screen to Louis in disbelief.

And Louis. Well. There were several buttons and Mark had just about pushed them all this afternoon and that, right there, was the big one. He was locked and loaded, a breath away from telling Craig to work on his spreadsheet for a second when there was a voice; a voice he could never _ever_ mistake for anyone but. It tore through his momentary rage and respective plans of dragging someone in the office for the first time since being given this role, halting his every move, every thought until he managed to catch exactly it was that he were saying.

“… just wait a moment for it to catch up here…”

Half turned in the chair, the hand that rest on the back rest tightened so much it actually sort of hurt, pivoting his head to peer at the broad chunk of a man that was hunched over Mark’s desk.

“You can’t keep so many applications open like that, computers are intelligent but that doesn’t mean they can’t malfunction from overload.”

“Just like us eh?” Mark huffed, elbowing Harry’s forearm.

Louis rolled his eyes and gestured gagging when Harry smiled, peering down at him like he’d just sung the most profound thing, “Exactly.”

“So,” Craig’s uncertain voice snapped Louis away from the sickening scene, “when did he get here?”

Louis’ thoughts exactly.

Without answering, he told Craig what he wanted to tell him earlier, reminding him he only had twenty minutes to complete it and rose from his chair, trying not to look directly at Harry, who was now weaving like some royal prince in and around the desks, greeting his patrons with a gracious smile and that stupid voice. And actually, all his work mates could go fuck themselves because they were stupid too. Looking up at him all gooey eyed and wide grins as he spoke to them, a gentle elbow touch here, a platonic playful slap there. They’d known him two weeks. Idiots.

“Harry,” Louis pulled on his suit jacket, cleared his throat a little too late that it sounded awkward. “Sir.”

When Harry turned around and saw him, his expression as always was nonchalant as he excused himself to Laura, leaving her staring wistfully in his wake as he walked down the aisle, “Louis. There you are.”

_Here I am? What the-_

Breathe Louis.

“Where have you been all morning?” He’d already started walking away from the main sprawl of desks, away form prying ears and he was satisfied when he heard Harry following. “We’ve needed you.”

Harry smirked. He didn’t understand why until- “Did it hurt to say that?”

He looked at Louis at length, stopping a few feet away once they’d reached the double glass doors of the entrance. There was no secret made of the way his eyes travelled down Louis’ form, something he’d not done so obviously before and with the heat behind it, if it were anyone else Louis’d be preparing to be promptly turned around and frisked explicitly.

“I’m being serious, Harry.” His tummy tightened and it reminded him he still hadn’t eaten, looking away just as Harry’s eyes returned to his, “they’ve been fretting all morning because of this meeting and I’ve been left to deal with them all on my own. You swan in at the eleventh hour and think it’s perfectly ok wh-,”

“You look good..”

Nothing. His brain, just stopped. Thrown entirely off course, defence left down, wide and open from one single sentence, “Sorry, what?”

“Your suit.”

As if he’d forgotten he were wearing it, Louis looked down at himself in utter surprise.

“Oh…um-,”

“Navy, it compliments your skin. And it fits,” Harry’s eyes did that thing again and Louis really needed to find something to eat because his stomach was doing flips, “really nice.”

Louis didn’t know how to feel about such a compliment. Or whether he should think about how he should be feeling at all. Or whether he should start talking before the smile on Harry’s ridiculously smug face grew any more and allowed him to succeed in what he’d probably set out to do, which was to set him off course and get him stuttering.

“Thanks.”

Was he a bigger person to return a compliment to the person he despised most? No. Did he wish he was? Honestly no. Harry looked good in anything and he knew it. Everyone knew it. He didn’t need to be told. He damn well knew he could walk in with a watermelon print shirt, aztec trousers with a tie worn backwards and still make it look like he was fresh off a campaign for Chanel.

Harry Styles.

Harry _fucking_ Styles.

“Um,” And yeah. Today was no exception to that rule. Stood proud in a forest green suit with a black shirt and grey satin neck scarf hung loosely around his neck, resting nicely on that part he always leaves open. Just so you can see the dip between his pectorals. His silver cross peeked out quite nicely every now again behind the silky- “anyway. You should’ve been here, everyone’s in a frenzy about those missing blueprints.”

Harry pocketed his hands which brought the already tight material of his pants even more snug. Louis had no idea why but his eyes darted south so quick he barely had time to think better about it. “I thought you said you could handle things here by yourself.”

Harry didn’t miss it either. Jaw muscles working as he noted Louis’ blush, the way he blinked upwards and tried to remain passive. “I did.”

“Well then, where’s the issue? You managed here and I, managed elsewhere.”

“Oh please, doing _what_?”

“Rearranging the meeting.”

Barely withholding a scoff, he swore to try a different approach. One that involved patience. “How does one _rearrange_ a meeting that has been on the cards for months now, last minute to several top execs and planners. Please, enlighten me.”

Harry patted his chest, snaking a hand to the side pocket to get a quick look at his phone before tsk’ing and simply saying, “It’s postponed until half three, gives everyone that extra hour or so they’ve been begging for.” He nodded, “See you there?”

All luxuriously graceful movements and long limbs he spoke into the receiver as he turned and walked away from Louis and all Louis could do was let him. With the knowledge that once again, he’d scored yet another point. Whilst Louis had been running round trying desperately to maintain he morale of the office and calm all the jittery nerves, trying to convince everyone all material can and will be done by 1:30, Harry and gone that one step further and postponed it by an hour and a half. All executed with minimal effort and communication.

He burned holes into his back as the office door closed behind him and tried not to scream when his name was hollered half way across the room.

 

*

 

“I have fifteen minutes until it starts, now is _not_ the time for games.”

“I am sick of you not communicating with me and making _me_ look like the bad guy.”

“Louis please-,”

“No you’re a piece of shit and you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“A - watch your mouth and B, are we doing this again? Now?” Harry glared, didn’t raise his voice and didn’t need to.

“It’s not happening anymore, I’m out here working my arse off and you’re _God_ knows where bending the rules and making plans and coming back to reap all the rewards!” He didn’t like how he was managing to get him this wound up. Didn’t like how he was showing it but he was fast approaching his limit. “You don’t get to do that, it’s not fair. I am going to this meeting with you whether you like it or not.”

“You are going to stay here and keep the team-,”

“-I need to be in there with you to know what is happening!” Louis flung his arms out, disbelief painting his features, “This is a vital meeting you can’t just-,”

“I can handle it.”

“And by handle it you mean take all my ideas, all my hard work and palm it off as your own? Knowing I won’t be there to chime in.”

“Oh don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m right though aren’t I?”

“Go cry to your Mother Louis, the adults have bigger things to worry about right now- where the _hell_ is that key?”

Louis flinched against his will as Harry raided through the desk drawers and slammed each one shut with more gusto than the last, his patience wearing terribly thin. He knew he had it a second ago. Swore he put it on the desk or in the paper tray or somewhere. He had it in his hand, he told himself that was the last thing he needed to collect; the files were in the cabinet safe and sound and if he showed up without them then he may as well kiss his job goodb-

“Step down.”

His hand froze on its path through his hair, pushing it back so hard the roots pulled painfully. He gripped around the thick strands for a second whilst letting Louis’ words register. Squinting he stood still and dropped both his hands. “Pardon?”

If this was a genuine situation and Louis wasn’t technically in control and it wasn’t _pre-planned_ , he maybe wouldn’t have done this. Gone this far, that is. It was quite absurd, actually, the lengths he were going to, the level he was dipping to.

“Step down and I’ll give you the key.”

Louis wouldn’t say he believed in the devil, but when Harry turned around then he would swear until his lungs give out he’d never seen eyes so black. His stomach was doing somersaults today and it was really disconcerting. But he couldn’t deny this time it wasn’t due to lack of food.

“Repeat that.”

Somehow it didn’t feel like a question. The demand not only in his voice but in how he stood; tall and solid. Unmoving not because he couldn’t but because he didn’t trust himself if he did.

“I’ll give it to you, if you agree right here, to walk away.”

He didn’t know which was more disturbing. The fact he hadn’t taken his eyes off of him or that he hadn’t blinked. Louis lowered his gaze, remembered the red marks on his knuckles last week, remembered what he’d learnt two days ago and began reconsidering if it were wise to try this. Perhaps he could learn to live with him. He was just an acquired taste is all.

“You think this is a game, Louis.”

Again, he were unsure if it were a question.

“No but you do.”

Harry tilted his head, looking at him to continue, “Really?”

“Yes, r-really,” Louis faltered when Harry begun slowly walking forward, “You’re always looking for ways to score points. Always trying to one up me.” He hoped the gulp wasn’t too visible, “You- it’s your goal to have this office turn against me don’t even try and deny it.”

“Your mind is wired in the most peculiar way Tomlinson.”

“Don’t second name me, it doesn’t make you seem any more important.”

“Give me the key,” Harry was a few strides away from being within touching distance, still having not altered his white hot stare from Louis, “now.”

Intuition is probably a human’s main and most innate survival tool. Something that their ancestors had used up until recent times for that exact reason, used it to navigate their lands and make decisions. As a business man, Louis’d always been advised to not entirely dampen down on this apparently natural sixth sense, but push it aside to make room for logical thinking instead. _Use your head, not your heart._ Right now however, every iota of his inner self was screaming at him to just give in; walk away and pick this up later. There’ll be another chance to get him to back down. Don’t push it. His heart and head were in utter and absolute agreeance.

But despite this most basic instinct, “No.”

Harry pressed forward, painfully slow until Louis had to move backwards to prevent their torsos from touching.

“I’ve tried so hard with you,” From this close, under that glower, Harry was just a little more than terrifying and Louis’d be a fool to act like he weren’t uneasy, “tried so hard but you just…”

Louis really hoped the sound he heard wasn’t a bone crunching. Couldn’t think about what else it could be though as he saw Harry flex his wrist on it’s way up to pushing his hair back again.

“I’m not going to ask again.”

Looking down to the large palm facing upwards in anticipation of the request being fulfilled, he shuddered at the thought of how those fingers have been responsible for so many injuries, have wrapped around body parts, squeezed, punched and crushed. It was a horrendous thought and didn’t help the irritating fear clawing its way up Louis’ spine, but he couldn’t shake it. Just like he couldn’t shake the stubborn streak that ran directly through his core. Straight through that so called intuition he’s choosing to exclusively ignore.

His voice was trifling when he looked up to the devils’ reincarnate staring back, “You can’t hurt me.”

Physically, he granted no response. But his voice had sunken further, “Louis.”

He couldn’t take anything from that, couldn’t gauge a single thing so he pushed on, “If you even think about laying a finger on me you know the consequences.”

Those eyes were transfixed on him, by now it were as if Harry dared not look away in case he missed something. He didn’t respond, just stood with his palm facing outwards still, breath steady but heavy in his chest.

“And what with your history,” Louis utilised an insanity that was disguised as bravery and leant in so his voice filled the intimate space between them, “you won’t stand a chance.”

A flash of something - something that was emanated from unanticipated information flew across green eyes. But before Louis could relish any of it it was gone and there was a blunt force to the centre of his chest, swift and unexpected as he got knocked backwards into the wall and his body made an almighty thump from the collision.

Louis hissed and rubbed at the terrible pain that was a dull sting in his ribcage only for his arm to be seized and pinned to his side against the wall the rest of his body was secured to.

“Who have you been speaking to?”

The Harry he’d dealt with up until this point had disappeared. What was usually fluid and slow was now hard and strong. He was demanding and infuriated, pinning Louis to the spot with not only the brute strength of his body but his eyes, allowing Louis no further gaze beyond his own.

“Let me- Harry, Harry you’re _hurting_ -,”

“You don’t know anything.”

“Harry please _jus_ \- _ah_ ,”

The hands sheathing his wrists tightened and his fingertips overlapped from the grip, “ _Stop_ , now.”

Harry’s face was so close. His breath warm and minty, that cologne thick and his eyes noxiously cold. His features were so sharp that even if Louis wanted to he found himself unable to look elsewhere; the high rise of his cheekbones, the rigid jaw and proud nose. He was right there in front of him and amidst the glare, Louis felt oddly compelled to give in.

“If it’s the sir fiasco, we’ll call it truce. Give me the key right now and no more.” Harry’s swallow could be heard he was so close, “If you do not I-,”

“You’ll what?”

Harry growled and released his wrists.

Louis didn’t move, “ _You’ll what_?”

He tested his arms still functioned after being bound by human steel and pulled the tiny silver item from his inside suit pocket, brandishing it a little between his slender fingers. He felt Harry shift before him and held it close to his chest immediately, earning him another horrific glare, “Giving up calling you sir isn’t good enough. Giving up being your deputy however, is.”

“I have ten minutes until I have to be in that board room, we do not have time for this _fucking-_ ,”

“Oh he swears!” Louis laughed, wasn’t humoured in the slightest. It let off a little of his nerve though, “Careful Harry, your act is slipping.”

“I am not doing as you bid.” Harry pointed his finger, hand unshaken and sure, “You do not tell me what to do.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay, well,” He remained still, eyes following Louis’ every move as he closed his fist around the tiny key and pushed off the wall, “guess that’s us both losing our jobs then.”

In the two seconds that followed, Louis pulled the band to his trousers open and dropped the key into his pants, patting his hip for emphasis as he pulled on his jacket. He was fully intending to leave, shaking his head as he walked towards the office door only to be stopped by that guttural voice.

He pointed two loosely aimed fingers towards his naval, “You think that’ll stop me?”

For a second, Louis swore he saw a flash of disbelief. And for a second, Harry didn’t actually believe what had just happened. Stood there staring at Louis’ crotch for longer than would be deemed necessary, with his lips hanging open softly on mute, eyebrows knotting together gradually as it all sunk in.

“Honestly Harry?” He needed to step up his game if he were going to get the reaction he wanted, “I’d love to see you try.”

Looking at him like he were something he’d been trying to scrape off the bottom of his shoe all day Louis rolled his eyes, hand pulling the door wide open.

Harry’s mind was slipping, had been making the fastest downhill path to bad decisions and catastrophic consequences for the past five minutes but he of all people knew his line, he knew his limit as it was fast approaching. Which is why he was under no ownership of his next actions when his body connected with Louis’ so fast the door slammed back shut and the glass window shook.

“ _Ha-_ ,”

Louis’ voice broke off on a clipped sound, something raspy and short of air when he was slammed against the wood, hand at his throat, cutting off any protests or sounds.

Harry knew from that tiny little voice ringing in his ear, far away but desperate for him to stop. He knew if he didn’t get it under control then he was another sarcastic comment, another antagonising glare from doing something irreversible.

He couldn’t even remember securing his throat. But when the oesophagus he was crushing gulped under his palm, he let loose just a little, lucidity coming back in the form of sweet sanity as the anger drifted. His other hand was pinning something else to the door, he couldn’t see what, too focused on the blue eyes staring back at him, desperate, scared. They looked at him in their glazed over state, blinking readily, mouth working for air.

Harry’s stomach flipped, a sick feeling nesting at the bottom of it as he let go of his throat completely and stepped back. “Fuck.” Louis was nearly doubled over, nursing his sore neck, “ _Fuck,_ I'm-,”

An apology was set in stone in his head, bubbling into his heart and when he spun around, thoughts a blur he needed to say it. He faced back to Louis, frantic and ready to say it when he got caught short at the look on his face. He was giggling. Albeit a little croaked, but there was a sure smile on his face and Harry was officially lost.

“Well- well done, Harry.”

“Here,” Harry stepped forward, surveying Louis’ wobbly form as he stood up straight with a smile still fastened to the corners of his mouth, “are you…”

“Okay? No, actually. No I think I’m a little disorientated from lack of oxygen,” Louis dropped his hand from the redness around his abused skin, “should have some nice bruises here in a couple of hours too.”

“Look, please, I’ll-,”

“You know for so long I’ve wanted to hear you beg,” He coughed into his fist, fingers hovering over his lips as he swallowed and refocused his smug glare, “but now it’s happening I don’t know if it’s more pathetic than satisfying.”

He pouted and hung his head to the side. Seeing the mortifying dawn of what was happening come over Harry’s angular features was more than pleasurable.

“Louis…”

“Yes sir?”

Harry bit the inside of his mouth. His body felt so hot he wanted to peel off his suit jacket, undo the remaining buttons on his shirt in a bid to even start dampening the blazing heat smothering his skin.

“Look, I’m-,” Harry really truly was horrified at his actions, but the pompous satisfaction on Louis’ face got his core twisting with the left over venom they’d elicited, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Louis shook his head, stepping forward which got Harry even more confused, stood with his hands on his hips, his suit jacket bracketing out as he could do nothing but stare, “no don’t apologise, because you’ve just,” He swallowed again, shaking his head as he snaked a hand up to trace the cross around his neck, “Harry you’re exactly where I want you.”

He’d been here before. Not _here_ , of course. Never had he ever crossed paths with someone who could rival the almighty stick in the mud Louis Tomlinson. But that feeling - the feeling that’s making itself very well known in the pit of his stomach, the feeling of blood lust dripping like a backward IV line into his system. Every morsel of his body wanted to snatch up his wrist, that bony little joint that was there in front of him, slim fingers plucking his cross from his skin, twisting and _pulling_ on it as if he had the right. Harry dipped his head to compensate, his deep breaths not going a miss by Louis who only pulled him in further.

“…I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

And yeah. Harry wanted to rip him to shreds. He’d been disciplined for coming up a year, he’d left old habits, old toxicity behind. He didn’t want to go back to that place. But the challenge that presented itself in the form of a 5ft 9 self righteous puritan was an unexpected one - something he never thought he’d have to deal with yet here he is, jaw so tense he might just break it.

Harry placed his hand over Louis’, the one tugging on his necklace and enveloped it slowly, “Whatever you’re thinking of doing-,”

“Well I thought I wanted you to quit-,”

“-You cannot dictate such thin-,”

Harry’s nostrils flared as he snapped his jaw shut at the next interruption, “But I’ve changed my mind. Because seeing this,” Louis made a point of looking at Harry’s hand gently wrapped around his own, “seeing you worried, apologetic, is so much more fun.”

He had to ask. So he did, after taking Louis’ hand away and straightening back up, “How did you find out about -,”

“About what?”

That band of sanity was wearing thin with every passing moment, every damn interruption. He tried to remain calm but the gritted teeth fooled no one, “About… my issues.”

“You mean your past issues? The ones you’ve been in therapy for a year now?”

“Okay _how_ -,” Harry stepped forward hand braced for something but he wasn’t sure, eyes wide and accusing, “ actually forget it. It doesn’t matter how.”

“No you’re right it doesn’t, what matters,” Louis met his stance and made that last step to close their distance, he prodded his finger in the dip between Harry’s pectorals, “is _you_ are going to bend to my every will or Isaac, Gary, maybe even your Dad?” He made sure he committed the look on Harry’s face to memory, “They’ll all know how a years worth of the most expensive therapy hasn’t worked at all.”

Harry was still curious to know where he’d found all this. He was already planning on what he’d do to the person, who could only be a select few, who’d leaked such private information. Especially to someone so ready to use it as ammo.

But then the blood drained from his face as he remembered where he was.

“ _Shit-_ Louis give me the fucking key,” He jogged over to his desk, looking at his wristwatch only to curse a few more times before swiping off the wrapped folders he’d placed there earlier and turning back with a pointed finger at the boy, “key, now. I’m fucking late.”

He was already at the door, a penetrative glare set in his eyes when Louis waited an excruciating few more daring seconds to just take in and admire his work, before sighing and slipping a hand past his waistband. Harry cleared his throat, hand melting the door handle with the strain. “Please don’t mess around, we’re so late, have to-,”

“Ah, that’s what I was waiting for,” Louis wiggled the key between his fingers as he joined his newly appointed six foot puppet toy at the door, feeling only a little nervous from the hated gaze, “ _we_.”

Without looking at him, afraid if he did he would jack the meeting off in favour of indulging in more violent cravings he swung the door open, “Move.”

 

*

 

It had been two weeks of successful torture.

Louis strolled into each day with a smile on his face and a skip in his step. Maybe not in the literal term, because the stress he himself and his colleagues are under at the moment acts as a friendly little rain cloud threatening to overcast _too_ much cheeriness. But one sure plus, for two weeks now, he hasn’t made a single coffee run in the morning. Not one. So he may be a little springier when he starts his day, greeting Laura and Nina and the rest of the office, due to no extra weight.

This morning was no different, as he came in with a bright smile aimed at his assistant.

“Morning Laura,” He couldn’t help that smile widening when he saw the half empty cup of coffee next to her, lip stain included, “any updates on the Underground?”

He slid over to where she was perched behind the front desk, slapping the counter top before popping one of the peppermint balls in his mouth, the minty freshness a welcome after his own coffee to go this morning.

He raised a brow when she did nothing but stare at him over her glasses, eyes raking up and down his entire body before she popped her lips and nodded, “Morning cutie.”

Louis’ brows shot back down instantly, flicking his head to the side, “Cutie?”

“Harry is going to love those.”

She leant her chin in the hook other hand and looked at him with that twinkle that he hates.

“Not this again,” He was already turning away, “where is he anyway?”

She was giggling and to Louis’ horror, so was he.

The hatred ran deep and true when it came to that man. But even Louis couldn’t deny how it may be even the teeny tiniest bit exciting to have the interest of a man like Harry. Physically, and purely physically, he was good. A strong nine out of ten. Ten’s were reserved for the decent sort. Louis were stubborn, not blind. So when he catches Harry’s stares, feels his gaze settle in his vicinity he can’t help but feel good about it; maybe he doesn’t exactly deflect it either, bending over a little further, keeping his pen in his mouth for a little longer.

“Suspenders though Lou, come on.”

“I’ve worn them before?” He stood still, running his hands down his white button up, peered down at the short sleeves that his biceps filled out nicely. He rocked forward and pouted at is polished brogues, making a face. He really didn’t see the big deal. Or appeal, for that matter. They were a staple part of a gentleman wardrobe. Just because they hooked and pulled on his trousers the way they did, emphasising his southernly curves more than they already are in regular clothing, he really didn’t get it.

“Yeah but,” She pointed the pencil at him, “Harry hasn’t seen them before.”

He rolled his eyes, managing to keep any smile from interfering from his act when he turned to go to the head office. He snapped the elastic of one of the suspenders as his only response and sauntered off towards the stairs when he nearly collided head first with Jean.

“Oh- Jean! Morning,” He beamed up at him, standing to the side to let him down, “Did he get it right?”

Jean jogged down the last set of steps, repeating Laura’s perverted scope of his body, “Um… yes. Actually. First time in two weeks. Give the man a medal.”

Louis empathised with him, said he wished he could go back to collecting the coffees but Harry just insisted and thought it might be good for him to get an extra half hour in bed every morning anyway. He was half way up the stairs when Jean stopped him.

“You do know you’re going to kill the man?”

“I…” Louis pulled a face, looked to the closed door of the office and back again, “Come again?”

“That outfit,” The Frenchman inclined his head towards his attire, “that’s what’s going to be written on the report under cause of death.”

He did not have the energy.

Leaving Jean chuckling to himself, he heard him and Laura exchange some lewd joke as he took a deep breath and pushed forward into the office.

Thing is, it was an official _thing_ by now - everyone knew that Harry had a minor little thing for Louis. Of course, Louis knew it was bullshit. They were each other’s born nemesis, complete opposites in every vital characteristic of human make-up and would probably step over the other with no more than a backwards glance if they were on fire. But it was no secret Harry liked the same sex, and it was no secret Louis was the prettiest thing in the office. Maybe even the building. So feelings aside, Harry’d have to be made of stone and have his eyeballs shackled to not steal a few glances here and there.

“So, the underground,” Louis left the door ajar, slapping his hands on his thighs, “any news?”

He was distracted by the pin board that’d made it’s premier in the room, with half finished sketches and sticky notes scattered all over it, stood tall and imposing in front of the ceiling to floor window. Getting caught up in some co-ordinates that’d changed since last night, Louis hadn’t noticed Harry’s lack of response.

Until he responded.

“What was that?” He tore his eyes away, turning his body before his head to look at him, “Sorry?”

Harry stood immediately, hand splayed on the desk for leverage.

“I said, good morning.” Harry spoke as if it hurt him to, the swallow that followed looking like it were soothing out a thorn stuck in his throat.

“Oh right, yeah morning.” Louis’ brows pinched together as he turned back to surveying the mood board.

“Did you get my note?”

“If it wasn’t about the underground I probably ignored it.”

There was movement but Louis didn’t bother to look, lifting up some paper that were overlapping. He bent over a little to see what the date was on top of the sketch, mouthing to himself when he suddenly became aware of how quiet it was. Harry doesn’t leave silences like these and with a quick glance over his shoulder he was ready to make some splendid remark but found he didn’t have to, Harry being right there behind him.

“So I take it the answer to my question is no… nothing about the works? Did Richard get back to you with a specific amount or?”

Harry looked troubled. Felt conflicted. And was just so utterly fed up of experiencing emotions that any normal person does and should feel yet being bound by his own morals, discipline and some boring legalities that told him no, _no you cannot_.

So instead he awkwardly loomed. Fiddling with the silver rings on his fingers, twisting them as his lips popped open silently, unsure of what he were going to say.

“He said Thursday,” He spoke finally, thankful it was at least on the right track. “Thursday is the start date, should only take him another week or so to get the stock from the US.”

“Right,” His weird behaviour had stuck to Louis’ attention already, nodding slowly as he still just stood there looking like he were waiting for… something. “Right, good.”

Adopting the most casual voice he could he attempted conversation with the oddment, stood there the whole time over his shoulder while he encompassed his concerns about the sketches before him. It was mostly one sided with Harry being, well, Harry. And after grumbling a few responses here and there, all too far apart and distracted that it took a physical effort for Louis not to turn around and shake him.

Not that he could. Man wouldn’t move an inch for he is solid muscle from the bone out.

After agreeing that yes the reception area should be at least twenty to twenty one metres squared and that the colour palette is to strictly stray far and wide from any pastels like last time, Louis reminded him that if there was a single baroque feature he would string Harry up from these very suspenders he wore upon his shoulders.

Which, the whole suspender thing was now ruined thanks to Laura and Jean’s keen, salacious observations.

Harry laughed for real, his two front teeth clamping over his lower lip before letting it slip, “The gothic era is one of the greatest, you cannot deny.”

“I can’t argue.” Louis shrugged, turning and crossing his arms across his chest, “My point is that it doesn’t belong in every room in every building in every country, ever.”

“But it adds so much-,”

“It belongs in manor houses among aristocrats and rich folk, people with taste who can afford the luxury of the real thing.”

“So we’ll just stick to what you say, as per.”

Was Louis going to rise to it? Nope. He already had the upper hand, there was absolutely no reason for him to rise to the bait, sink to that level-

“Well if you want to keep the clients rolling in.”

Louis knocked his head to the side, shifting his weight onto one foot which caused Harry’s line of vision to dip and hover for a while.

“Is that you trying to be funny?”

Louis shrugged, “If you find the idea of unemployment humorous.”

Harry was a fan of his Edwardian themes, so much so that it comes through in his own personal style from time to time with his extravagant prints and traditional tailoring. However, he knew he were at a loss with this one. Louis was right. And, it didn’t kill him to admit it either.

“Well alright,” Pulling his phone from his back pocket he nodded again, mouth turned down in a pout, “can’t have you whining like a little bitch.”

He was already busying himself with his phone screen, jaw muscles tensing as he smacked on the gum that seems to never leave his mouth. As if he hadn’t said anything wrong he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and without looking up at the appalled expression of his companion, he shook his head, “Ah, looks like there’s an issue with the digitals.”

“Excuse me?” Louis’ voice always rose several octaves higher than he’d like and it was beginning to get really annoying.

“The digitals,” Harry repeated, frowning when he finished tapping out his reply to look at Louis as if he were a few biscuits short of a packet, “In Bournemouth?”

“Yes, you sod, I know what th-,”

“I’d love to stay and flirt, but some of us have a business to run.” He wrapped his hand around the device as he sauntered back over to his desk to retrieve his keys, “You have the reins for the morning, that alright?”

And without giving him enough time to respond, he threw Louis a wink that Louis _refused_ to accept in good grace, the door slamming behind him on the way out.

 

*

 

It was a rare sight to find Louis leaving on time, i.e. closing time, but staying _this_ late was certainly not routine. Jean had called him insane, Laura said he was running himself dry and they’d both concluded he was going to burn out if he stayed anymore time overdue.

But one of the biggest jobs of his and his whole team’s career was four days away and honestly, he had trust within the others, he knew they worked their posteriors off day in day out but he wasn’t anything if not a perfectionist. It was more for his own sake rather than the others.

Sighing, he slumped steadily through the dark office, the only light coming from the desk he occupied and one row of low lit ceiling spot lights that lined the front half of the room. This was his third Early Gray in two and a half hours and by all means 9:30 was far too late to be consuming caffeine so he’d opted for decaf. Although sleep had been a distant dream, ironically, for the past weeks. He doesn’t remember what ‘a good nights’ sleep’ feels like. He even added two spoons of sugar to add to the insomniac kink.

Setting the mug down on the coaster he felt elegant as in the same move he managed to swing down into his chair, but the angle he fell at scrubbed that immediately. But for a second, he didn’t care. For that small second, he stayed in the awkward position, accepting his fate as probably one of the most ungraceful creatures on the planet, arms hanging loose over the rests, eyes slipping close for the _teeniest_ moment to play with idea of sleep when they shot back open instantly.

“Oh for _fuck_ -,” Huffing at the non hilarity of his own joke doing a 180 flip, he pushed himself up in the chair - which took longer than he would admit - shuffling it forward to reach for the freshly made cup of bitter sweet goodness, softly inhaling the euphoric aroma before sighing.

All it took was one sip, so small his tongue barely kitten licked the rim, for him to withdraw and splutter. He choked lightly and winced as he sat it back down.

Next time, he’ll be sure to put the salt back out of the sugar canister. It was grand watching Harry nearly gag around an ample mouthful of salt coffee - after Louis insisted Nina make them for once being so she’s always gets his order just right, _"black two sugars please"_ \- but he’d literally tasted his own medicine and it were fucking vile.

“Idiot, Tomlinson,” He was already padding with socked feet, shoes kicked off the minute the cleaning lady left at 6, back to the kitchen with his offensive cup in hand, “… if you’re going to prank someone make su-,”

“Make sure your victim isn’t smarter than you?”

What was worse than salty tea? _Dropping_ salty tea. Accompanied by a very real and extremely unobscured scream.

Pivoting on his heels, he felt his heart jack hammering against his ribs when he saw the face he least wanted to see in a) this situation, b) any situation and c) at this god forsaken sleep deprived hour.

“Harry.”

“Why do you always do that?” Harry replied, head cocking to the side a touch as he jingled what Louis presumed were a set of keys between long fingers. He looked a little haunting in the dim lighting, the way it touched on his features highlighted their severity in the most majestic way. He was decked out in black on the bottom with a grey hoodie on top.

Louis knew he didn’t need to reply. Harry continuing as he glanced over Louis’ spread on the desk.

“Say my name like that. Even when you should expect me to appear you always,” He rolled his hand, “seem so alarmed.”

“You move with the agility of a mouse on crack, forgive me if I seem a little startled when your goliath arse appears out of nowhere.” He wanted to ask him what he was doing here, but every cell of his stubborn will wanted to give him no such joy. “And you’re not smarter than me.”

He let the hand that’d been clutching his chest drop, only now looking at the spillage on the floor as he fell to his knees to collect the cup.

“Your tea?”

“Oh will you just-,”

“I replaced all your decaf with normal.” Harry’s shoes, some black leather boots with a substantial buckle attached to the side - new - stopped before him. It was all Louis could do to not look up.

“Had you forgotten,” Louis echoed the same arrogance Harry had, “you’re still in my debt?”

Harry chuckled, it was more a grumble and Louis bit the insides of his cheeks. “ _What_?”

“Oh peach your trivial bruising has healed.”

Louis looked up.

“I don’t need physical evidence to prove something that’s already a cemented fact.”

He cared not about holding his stare any longer, feeling weird on his knees like that and started to pull himself up, dusting off his thin sweater when he stood. He disguised his inability to not meet Harry’s eye as mere disinterest but it wasn’t even close to the truth; there was something incredibly intimidating about Harry in this hour. It suddenly hit him that they were alone, after hours, his phone on the desk behind Harry and Harry. Just Harry. There wasn’t much that needed to be added to any mix that needs to aid him in leaning towards being terrorising.

He felt uncomfortable, clearing his throat to fill the void where Harry’s reply should’ve been.

“What do you want?”

Thoughts clearing, they were replaced with ones equally inappropriate.

Louis stared at the draw string of his hoodie, followed the line of his neck, his stubbly jaw. His eyes fluttered upwards, passing the now cold mug between his hands, hip popping again, unbeknown to him it were one of Harry’s favourite things.

“I,” There were a husk in his voice that got Louis snapping his eyes upwards, “came to tell you to pack up.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know.”

Silence settled, Louis’ stomach twisting uncomfortably again.

"How did you even know I was here?"

"Jean," He patted his back pocket, Louis presuming that being where his phone was situated, "he was concerned."

Louis made a mental note to throttle him tomorrow.

“So you’re going to leave,” Harry pointed to the floor where the tea was decorating it, “but this needs sorting.”

“I need to work.”

The man shook his head once, green eyes twinkling, “You’ve done enough.”

The finality in his voice was not appreciated.

So Louis sighed, smiled sweetly before saying okay and leaving towards the kitchen to retrieve a towel. He returned to a hunched over Harry peering at his works, always broad, always imposing, his stately build allowing Louis a moment of silent pause before he bounced the towel in his hand and pushed forward with a wispy voice in tact, “Alright you’re the boss.”

He wasn’t polite about clearing away the samples Harry were viewing right from under his nose. Harry following his snappy actions with a cold glare but a sort of half smirk, contradicting every broody thing about him.

“You’re adorable you know.” He reached out to seize the last piece of parchment Louis were rolling, pulling him forward with one arm.

The sudden closeness got Louis hiccuping over his words, staring at the strong hand around the band of his paper to the full lips at his eye level. Harry smelt different, he noted. His usual cologne was missing, substituted with something more musky but just as pleasant. Masculine.

He was tired.

“Thanks sir.” He licked his lips, titling his head up to fuse his clearest blue with the wildest green.

He was ecstatic when he saw the effect that had on him, fearing his facade would fade soon if he didn’t carry on quickly he plucked the towel he’d looped through his jeans at the back to swing it up and around his neck.

“You want to help me clean?” He pulled on the the ends, bringing Harry’s head forward so their faces were considerably close. “I’m quite tired.”

Two months ago Harry would’ve laughed in his face. Two months ago, Louis would've retracted his hands immediately the minute he felt larger ones sheath his. He chose not to think too much on it, enjoying teasing this part of his power play a lot more than he should.

“Louis.”

“Why do you always do that?”

Harry’s lips were rather nice though, full, curved. Pouty. “Do what?”

“Say my name like that,” Things were flowing so nicely, he couldn’t help the elated smile blossoming as he leant in closer, “like you want to punish me.”

Harry squeezed Louis’ hands, kicked out his thigh so he backed Louis against the desk, the rise of his bottom pushed up even further against the lip of the table.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Louis thought he couldn’t get this deep, but it felt naughty and exhilarating and his adrenaline was sky high. A high that he’d only ever reached here and now. “What do you mean?” He gulped, looking concerned at their position, “Do what?”

His hands were released along with a strained noise from Harry, something that Louis would never even admit to under oath resonated in his groin.

“M’gonna fucking kill you.”

“Or I will you,” Louis pushed with all his strength so Harry had to stand back, “either way.”

Whether he were doing it deliberately or was unaware of his lack of subtly, it was like Louis was fixed to the action as Harry palmed his groin harshly, digging the heel into the sizeable bulge too much for it to be comfortable surely.

Louis knew it, but seeing it. That was a confirmation he didn’t know what to do with. He knew it was more cause for damage, another thing he had in his favour, he’d been using it all along tactfully but now, it was official. No questioning the affect he had.

“Oh dear.”

Harry’s presenting spun sickenenly fast, pointing a finger with his eyes dark, “Don’t try it.”

“Bu-,”

“ _No_.” That was definitely final. “No. You don’t want to cross that line Louis.”

“Why does everything that comes out of your mouth sound like a threat?”

“Because everything that comes out of yours is a challenge.”

“You touch me,” Louis turned around, aware of his back facing an unhinged time bomb, “rape doesn’t need bruising to be proven.”

Harry had considered Louis to be many things. Majority of what people would class as mild to excruciatingly irritating traits. But this, this wasn’t something even _he_ would cook up in his darker moments.

“You…” He looked towards the small boy, appearing very defiant and very happy with himself, “you’re not well.”

He stood back shaking his head, repeated, “You’re really not well.”

“Suck it up or step down.”

His head buzzed, his heart raced. But he was giddy. Mouth filling with saliva as his adrenaline scorched. Louis’d just managed to level up. He knew it was wrong, the sane voice that he’d batted to the side earlier was back in full force and begging him to be realistic, to be fair and sensical. This could ruin his life, not just his career. Was it really necessary?

“What _is it_ with you?” Harry’s voice couldn’t grow too much, the streak he’d attract would be unwelcome and risky, “Why do you want to ruin me so much?”

“Because I’m Louis Tomlinson and I always get what I want. You said it yourself.”

Louis slapped the towel into his chest, satisfied with the short puff of air through his nose as he shouldered past his bicep. Louis flicked his table light off, walking away with a mischievous giggle and a little more sway in his hips towards the glass doors.

He didn’t hear Harry, head hung as he wrung it in his hands until some of the threads gave way.

“Someone needs to put a stop to that.”

 

*

 

Harry had been stewing in his own inner conflict for two days. Averting his gaze whenever the pint sized annoyance was near. Conversing with him only when necessary; which mainly consisted of maintaining the office morale by convincing all was good between the two people running it.

Attraction and repulsion were at war and sooner or later, one was going to overcome the other. Or it will be a formidable blend of the two, pent up aggression and inexplicable arousal clashing in a horrifying apex of emotion. And if Harry knew himself, he wouldn’t be so strong to stop it this time. Being a mere mortal his limit was not seamless and Louis was being so consistent in pushing him towards it.

Especially today.

He hadn’t even made it though lunch without poking fun. He had to make it through a couple more hours; 244 minutes before he could leave in haste, lock himself away at home and relieve his aggression in one way or another.

He took a deep breath, a growl bubbling in his sternum when the door clicked open.

“Don’t.”

Louis dropped his drawings onto the lounger, rolled and neat, making sure they stayed put first before flicking his fringe and looking back up to an extremely tense Harry.

“Don’t what?” He didn’t need to act coy, he found the whole playing dumb thing came to him quite easily. Enjoying the reaction he got when he closed in on the desk Harry were sat behind, still looking down at the expanse of paper he had sprawled across the desk, forehead resting between his fingers.

A few seconds passed and it was a few seconds too long with no response for Louis, sighing loudly before making his way around the side of the desk, walking his fingers across the top slowly.

“Stressed?”

A grumble wasn’t good enough, didn’t quantify as a reasonable response. No way near the reaction he wanted.

When he passed from his side to Harry’s he saw the tension build in those shoulders, muscles locking tight under the material of his shirt.

“As much as I hate you…” Harry’s pencil faltered, a pause too long for him not to be paying attention, “I have to give it to you. You work hard.”

“Please, get out of my office.”

“Oh, _your_ office?” Louis laughed, afflicted, “Seems all this tension is making you a little delusional.”

Harry slammed the pencil down with his palm, both hands laid flat atop the desk. “Louis.”

“It’s okay, I can,” Louis ran his hands up and over the top of his shoulders, coming back up to his nape, the body underneath him too hard to be real, “…I can help you destress if you like?”

He watched the cross around Harry’s neck glimmer in the light with every rise of his chest, the breaths coming a little shorter and punchier. Louis wanted to chase it. He was in this for one reason only, his agenda was far from sexual but what was the harm? He knew two of Harry’s weak spots - anger and _him_ , so why not take every advantage in his bid to pick this man apart piece by piece.

So he leant forward, pink lips coming in close to Harry’s ear and made the tiniest sound, silent and airy as a whine but heavy enough so Harry _heard_ it, “May I?”

Louis’ palms were soft, warm as they landscaped down the front of his chest, the tips of his fingers grazing the bare skin available there as they breached the soft material of his shirt.

Harry was careful about leaning back into the leather, aware of Louis’ face right next to his own. He kept his torso still as he pulled back and his eyes down, watching those delicate hands dip further down his chest, over the rise of his pectorals.

“You better be careful Louis…”

Louis made that sound again, a little shorter but just as close, just as excruciatingly erotic. He licked his lips and Harry closed his eyes, “I want to help you.”

His eyes pinged back open, pupils blown.

Within two seconds Harry shoved the arms from around the top of his chair, swung around and seized his wrists, making Louis stumble a little from the angle. He made sure to have tight hold on his eyes before he spoke, “I know your game and I am not interesting in being a pawn in it so if you would please do as I say and _leave_.”

He still had his wrists encased, frowning as he was totally serious but Louis seemed to not register that, giggling and ducking his head as he made to move that one step closer and before Harry could get over the fact that he was apparently finding this entire ordeal hilarious, he had a lap-full of Louis.

“Lou-,” He sounded panicked and Louis beamed, “no what are you- Louis. Stop-,”

“Or what?” He struck Harry with those fucking eyes, so sharp, “Come on Harry what are you going to do?”

Harry’s chest was rabbiting by now, Louis’ eyes dropping to watch the mesmerising motion before biting his lip and pulling back up to his eyes, wrists slipping easily from Harry’s hold that’d turned lax, “What _can_ you do?”

It was clear in a couple of seconds why Harry hadn’t said a word, why he panicked so readily and seemed to become statuesque when Louis weaved his thighs atop his own. Louis shuffled a little further on so he was wedged nicely, feeling incredibly tiny on top of this glorious man when his breath caught.

“Oh my…” Resting his hands on his chest to brace himself, he trailed off looking to between where their most intimate areas were now pressed intoxicatingly close, “You’re-,”

“-Are you surprised?”

Not what Louis was expecting.

“Sorry?”

“You know what you’re doing.”

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You need to drop this.”

“Drop what?”

“If you don’t, I will report you.”

Louis' infantile giggle didn't help things, "That's cute."

"I mean it."

“And what do you plan on saying? I walk around this office, do what you tell me to do, run your errands, abide by the rules you set and make your dick grow hard and fat-,”

“ _-easy._ ”

“God you’re big…”

Louis tested his limit, fingers falling over the silky satin of his shirt to where it flared over his crotch. Harry closed his eyes, making a strangled noise, low and throaty when those fingers grazed over his solid sensitivity, stretching to try and gauge some exact size.

“You think they won’t believe me if I reported sexual harassment?”

Louis’ eyes shot up, an innocence present that Harry could laugh at, “You think they’d believe me if I did?”

The rage he’d befriended rose to a threatening boil, translating to a growl in his chest, eyes darkening as he zoned in on the infuriating brat in his lap.

“Yeah, I’m sure Isaac is well informed about your little _issue,_ so I don’t think it’d be too difficult for them to believe me - an innocent, loyal, hard working employee who just wants the best for this company - if I were to cry anything that suggested you’d acted a little unorthodox.”

“You’re a spoilt little fuck.”

“Mhm,” Louis ground his hips and Harry’s temper peaked, tightening his hold on the leather arm rests so violently he feared the material may give, “I told you, I always get what I want.”

He felt he were close. So close to getting Harry to snap and lash out. In these moments he subconsciously reflected on the decisions he’d made to come this far; the ridiculous notion of him willing to take a hit, perhaps a beating, just to get someone to quit their job. But it wasn’t just anyone.

Louis’ hips worked up a storm in his lap, feeling the impressive girth against the underside of his thigh. He sucked on his bottom lip, leant in a little too close as he tried to pull a reaction from Harry’s ever passive features, “You’re so big.”

Harry said nothing. Gave him nothing but the stare he started. His fingertips were surely breaking that leather.

“How does it feel, knowing that I know your dirty little secret huh? That I can do anything I want to you…” Louis ran his hands back up until he met the first button, “drive you insane, piss you off, ignore your demands… turn you on,” He popped each one slowly, silently enjoying the mounds of solid flesh he were revealing, “and knowing that you can’t do fuck all abo- _oh_ -,”

Louis’ slipped his hips a little too far and Harry rolled his own back up to meet him in the same breath. His fingers paused, gripping the last button, his eyes fluttered shut. Harry’s shaft was as hard as it was going to get, thicker than Louis’d ever known and was pressed quite nicely against his taint. If he ground his hips again he knew it’d feel good, so good, that he may lose his focus.

And the worst part, Harry knew it.

“Are you sure,” Louis’ whine was involuntary this time, eyes opening by the thick demand in that voice, “about that?”

Harry’s deep, deep voice was a little suffocating now. The simple shift of position got Louis a little off track and he was still gripping that last button as Harry’s fingertips removed themselves from the mould they’d welded into the arm rests and found a much more preferable sanctuary on his fleshy hips.

“You c-can’t do anything,” Louis huffed out a laugh, not as sure as before.

“Let me get this clear,” Harry’s hands were uncomfortably tight on their location, but it was a pain that Louis found himself leaning into. Power a thing he’d always been attracted to. “If I retaliate, in any way, you’re going to run crying to Isaac?”

If he thought he were going to get a confirmation then he could think again. Louis showing utmost defiance as he popped the final button and let his shirt fall to either side. He swallowed as the combination of being face to face with that body and Harry pulling his hips down hard got him stuttering on the saliva.

“Y-yes,” Turns out he was easily swayed nowadays, “you’re screwed, Styles.”

The hum filled Louis with zero confidence. In fact, it drained him of any shred of it when Harry reached around and palmed his arse, a cheek in each hand with a blinding smile when Louis gasped, “Best give you something to cry about then.”


	3. Chapter 3

No sooner had he gotten over the shock of fingers gripping his lower regions so hard he could mentally trace the bruises they’d delivered to the soft flesh, were he being lifted from his perch on thick thighs by arms equally as sound. Momentarily suspended around Harry’s torso, his legs automatically coming to complete the circle around his hips, Louis would’ve taken a moment if he could, to appreciate the brute strength supporting him so smoothly.

If he could.

The sound he made when those same arms constricted and slammed him down on the desk was far from subtle.

He hissed at the effort his spine made to curve off the table, his whole body’s reflex to get up and away from the cold surface. But Harry’s hands had other ideas and with both at his waist, he leant forward and piled all his weight into his upper body to push him flat out against the wood. He made sure his lips were aligned perfectly with Louis’ ear before smacking them and breathing out a smokey rasp, “What’s the matter pup?”

Louis’ mouth fell open, silent, as a tongue traced along his ear lobe, sharp teeth nipped and dragged sloppy but thorough along his jaw, under his chin and hovered over his lower lip. The pause he left there was only a second or two but it felt much longer, Louis holding his breath until he felt Harry’s flare softly over his features.

He opened his eyes to Harry staring down at him. He got lost in the swirls of shadowy grey and emerald, studying his face for something.

“I’m giving you this chance,” Harry’s words purred and Louis whimpered, expected something else as he pulled up, standing tall between his thighs that he still had encased around his hips, “one chance.”

He narrowed his eyes on the last part, dropping them as he pulled his hands along Louis’ tight body, taking the suspenders from his shoulders with them, sliding hungry palms up and over his thighs and round to this where his feet intwined at the small of his back. Harry basked in the gulp he received as his response, chuckling as he turned his attention to working off his shoes, dropping them to the floor in an instant, taking time to play with his delicate ankles.

“Right then.” He enjoyed how he could circle the entire joint with a singular hand, using this exact pleasure to grip and _yank_ Louis further into him, his groin slamming straight between his thighs.

“ _Har-_ ,” Louis whimpered, catching his lips on a noise. He arched his head up to look down at the position Harry held them in and defiance flared inside of him. “… You trying… to scare me? Huh?”

A snort of a laugh came from the larger male, busying himself with eyeing up Louis’ behind, which was hanging over the edge of the desk.

“ _Well?_ ” Pushing for an answer he repositioned his hips, eyeing Harry as furiously as he gathered both ankles over one of his shoulders and held him there, frowning as he seemed to not pay the blindest bit of attention to the boy, rather his soft curve down South.

He wanted to say his name, let it settle on his tongue, test it’s durability on his palette but his rigid will still laid claim to his actions. It didn’t matter that he were on the underside of power, pinned down and open enough for Harry to take what he wanted; none of that mattered to the voice in his head that still clawed for control.

“Harry.”

When Louis felt the palm connect with his clothed bottom it was like thunder. The clap sending a shock up his body that caught in his throat.

“You’re forgetting your place, Louis.”

Louis’ jaw was tense, his bones knotting into position as he let the sting simmer before answering, eyes pinned to the ceiling. “I- I don’t know-,”

“Scaring you wouldn’t take much effort on my behalf,” Harry scraped his fingernails up the back of his thigh making him squirm, “judging by the way you’re crumbling merely from a touch.”

Suddenly his trousers were pulled up with too much ease and the cool air ballooned over the back of his thighs. Caught completely off guard Louis pushed himself up on his elbows, the wood serving as a painful foundation. His blue eyes shone, darting from his exposed areas to Harry’s emotionless face, “ _You can_ -,” Another smack to his ass got the blush on his cheeks deepening, “- _oh my god_ -,” Louis nearly lost his balance, swallowed around his tongue that wasn’t functioning, “Harry y- _you-_ ,”

Regardless of his passive expression a grumble, low frequency but weighted rumbled from Harry’s chest as he stood back, ripping the rest of Louis’ trousers off his legs in one swing. His chest was rising a little violently, nostrils flared. He glowered at the small boy, whose fingertips were turning white where they gripped the desk.

“Up.” Harry’s order was direct and Louis froze.

Seeing that he doesn’t move immediately he adds, “I don’t think you want me to have to ask again.”

Butterflies spark in Louis’ stomach and he did as he were told. Harry had already seated himself back in the leather chair, sighing as he settled back into it and surveyed Louis’ standing form. His eyes lingered around Louis’ bare thighs, down his legs that looked much longer now they were naked. “Come here.”

Harry beckoned loosely with two fingers, sitting with his shirt hung open like a King would on his throne. He fit the role quite adequately, looking royal with his black attire, his silver jewellery and emerald eyes. Powerful as he ordered Louis’ every move, watching him with hooded eyes as he shifted closer between his open thighs until knees bumped the leather.

A corner of his mouth twitched. “Sit.”

It felt like a rare moment for Louis to be looking down on him. But instead of empowering him, it just made it feel like he was standing upon a stage, artificially elevated into a position of vulnerability. He was being watched, not the one doing the watching.

“I… why?” Louis voice was soft, the question innocent enough that Harry could’ve cooed. But be it under this circumstance it merely had his cock twitching.

Instead of answering, he waited. Took a breath. He waited another beat and locked onto Louis’ eyes, still unsure and nervous, fingers twitching. But the moment of hesitation was too long and Harry tore the bit of power he’d admitted right from under his feet.

All it took was a short tangle of limbs and rough hands to get Louis onto his lap the way he wanted. Face down with his underwear peeled back to reveal the tempting curve of his supple ass. Smooth, tight and unblemished.

“Easy now…” Harry cooed, hands getting their anchor on that lithe little body, “your defiance will be what destroys you, in the end.”

It wasn’t an easy feat, Louis realising half way through exactly what was happening and he clawed like an angry kitten, pushed at Harry’s knees to try and get up. He thought he were in with a chance of winning when Harry hissed in pain, but all hope was wiped out when there were fingers gripping the nape of his neck in a bone splintering hold, forcing his head down. He wriggled his lower body but Harry caught that too, heaving his hips upwards and securing his thighs with one arm.

It wasn’t like Louis was weak, in fact he was quite strong; reasonably athletic and agile. But Harry was quicker. Was always going to be. Much more experienced in securing death grips and yeah, the muscle mass was an obvious benefit.

He was stuck. And if he tried to move Harry would surely snap his neck for the effort.

“ _Harry,_ ” Louis whined, wanting it to sound full of conviction but his light timbre and position made it sound anything but, “Harry, you- if you think you can just-,”

His next gasp transcended into a sharp choke when Harry brought down his hand harder than before.

“What was that?”

Louis huffed, but it didn’t reach his mouth properly, “Please-,”

“Mhm.” Harry’s palm caressed his cheek, “Better.”

“Please, st-stop,” Louis thrashed, his voice trembling as another clapped his behind, “ _please just fucking…_ ”

“Such a sweet thing,” Harry tutted, shook his head and back handed that tight backside once more, “with a sour tongue.”

The sound of his assailment echoed crisply off the walls and Louis blushed furiously, feeling the tiniest he’d ever felt like this. He peered up to the windows that looked over the office, neck straining from the angle. A fragment of relief passed over him when he saw the grey blinds were firmly shut. The door though-

“- _ah!_ ,” Harry caught him off guard. Again. “… _shit_.”

Screwing his eyes shut he let the sting spiral its way up his spine, the heat of the attack laying thick over his buttocks. He was almost certain his heart was pumping so hard that Harry would be able to feel it.

“Obnoxiously mouthy for someone so tiny.”

He wriggled again and Harry’s arms tightened.

“Let. Me. _Go!_ ,”

This was the fifth slap, maybe sixth. Louis’d lost count. His head was whirring from the pain and excitement it brought.

“Address me properly and I’ll let you go.”

His thighs felt like solid rock underneath his torso, that was also bare now, his t-shirt having ridden up with the struggle of trying to break free before, allowing Harry the most appetising view of his slim figure and dipped back. He gripped one of his knees, digging his fingers into the bone in a bid to cause pain and hissed.

“ _Please_.”

He felt Harry’s hum against his his hip bone, where it was pressing against his stomach, “Better… please what?”

“P-please,” Trying to swallow was proving a little difficult, “just, j… _Harry_ ,”

“I can’t decide if you’re being stubborn or just,” His palm struck his ass and he watched it bounce for a second, “…stupid.”

“I-,”

“Yes?”

“… _I_ ,”

“You what, Louis?”

Finally swallowing enough moisture he wet his lips and spoke clearly, turning his head to the side as much as he could, “I hate you.”

He would learn sooner or later. In the meantime, Harry made an indignant sound and kneaded the slowly pinking flesh that was exposed to him, “ _Let go._ ”

When he released the soft mound of flesh there were white marks paying tribute to his harsh grip but they were layered by another thwack of skin on skin, adding to the redness of his successive open-palmed slaps.

Louis wasn’t going anywhere by now, they both knew it. So the hand keeping his head down repositioned to the front of his throat, fingers long enough to work their way up and secure a grip under his jaw to arch his head back.

He prompted Louis for the response he needed, his grip strong and his strikes harder.

Somewhere between Louis’ consistent defiance, his moans turned to tender sobs. He sobbed incessantly now, with tears decorating the corners of his eyes, ready to spill down his face between breathless gasps.

The strangest shift happened inside Louis then. Harry’s hands were big, they were warm and the way they kneaded his aching behind in between blows was intoxicatingly pleasing. The pressing and rubbing and squeezing, sliding his fingers slowly over his supple curve and going no further than the line of his underwear sat just beneath his cheeks. He melted, sort of just welcoming the pain of that last slap, melted like cold butter into the heat of it all. He swallowed the next moan, probably the most control he was going to have over any of his actions from here on out, but couldn’t keep from moving his ass upwards, _into_ Harry’s battering.

And Harry noticed. His thoughts of Louis’ pleading, his dripping wet suffering, all his secret desires manifested his action to a halt. Placing his hand firmly against the raw, screaming skin he soothed the ache with outstretched fingers, reaching from crack to cheek.

It was the tiniest incline, the smallest of raises but Harry saw the arch in his back, the dip in that delicious spine that he wanted to run his tongue along, now coated in a shallow layer of sweat.

“Ready to give in?”

Louis’d long succumbed. He couldn’t tell you when the exact point of reluctance fell through, but he knew that his body hadn’t been his own for a while now. Maybe even before he even entered the room, he’d given in. A tension that had been building to an imminent submission.

He swallowed and nuzzled into his arm that he was leaning on. Harry peered down to the blush that’d crept onto his ears, smiling when he heard the smallest of mumbles.

“Speak up, baby.”

Louis whined, sort of through a huff as he lifted his face, fringe ruffled, “Yes sir.”

Scorching the moment into a thousands pieces, the phone rang loud. On the desk. The little red light flickering to tell them just that, as if the intrusive sound wasn’t enough. Somehow, Harry managed to swirl the chair around and reach over to the device before it rung off, all the while keeping Louis snuggly over his lap.

“Yep.” Harry cleared the husk from his throat before continuing. “…What, right now?”

Louis’ heart dropped.

He thought he were brave when he pushed himself up on shaky arms, elbows a death glare away from giving way as he gulped and turned to watch Harry speak over his shoulder. He wasn’t looking at Louis’ face, more at the angle he’d just created at his other end.

“Okay. Alright. Give me four minutes.”

He hung up then, leaving his hand on top of the receiver for a beat, staring at it with a frown. Louis didn’t want to know the expression on his face, he couldn’t even imagine what he looked like at present, but he knew what he was feeling, knew what his body wanted and he, for the first time, was listening.

“W-what’s happening?”

He blinked a couple of times, lapping his lips with a pink tongue. His feather weight interruption brought Harry back to life, releasing the phone and turning back to his little prisoner. His gaze, his whole demeanour shifted from boss Harry to just Harry. The Harry that Louis’d hated since the beginning - arrogant, powerful and charming. All with one turn of his head.

He smirked, eyes catching the next lick of that tongue, “Duties call.”

Louis was about to protest when Harry pulled his underwear back up over his sore behind with a harsh snap.

 

*

 

Sat down. Tied up. Helpless.

He wriggled when the leather began to stick a little to his thighs. Exposed and vulnerable. He could barely shuffle his hips he were so tightly bound. Held in place by his own suspenders, ready for him when he returns.

The knowledge that he is there only because of him,  _for_ him, was humiliating if he thought about it. If he wanted to, he could scream and shout until someone would eventually hear but he knew he wouldn’t. They both knew he wouldn’t. Because there was something more overpowering than humiliation at play.

He had no idea how long it’d been. The make shift blindfold of one of Harry’s silk neck scarves made sure to stop him form gauging anything. The ticking of the clock face on the wall behind him was a subtle taunt, reminding him that he were very much under his control. His thoughts were rampant with the so many possibilities. Some made him anxious with dread, some made him squirm with excitement at the what if’s. Others, and those were the worst, made his mouth run dry, his body tense and his arousal white hot.

Sounds were his one and only comfort. Beyond the dull thump of his own pulse and the ticking clock, he became aware of the movement outside the room. Every so often he swore he could even hear a page being turned, paper being shredded or folded. The phone lines rang out a couple of times too, but if it weren’t answered at the reception area then no voices were there to listen in on.

There was nothing to it. And it was driving him insane. And what drove him more insane, was this is exactly what he wanted. The man left him there knowing the anticipation would eat away, the lack of any control, waiting, aching. Maybe even longing, for his return.

Perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised, being in such a hyper state of awareness that he’d slipped off into his thoughts, a scenario he privately yearned paying out nicely in his minds’ eye vividly, he didn’t notice his presence until he heard the voice.

“Sorry that took so long,” His tone made it sound like he were anything but, the door clicked and Louis’ heart leapt when he heard it lock. He just about managed to focus on the sound of Harry’s boots over the blood pumping in his ears, their dull thump closing in slowly to his position. “Where were we?”

There was some more shuffling, coming from right in front of him then slightly to his right.

Louis breathed. All he could do. The fear of the unknown was kicking his gall to the curb. He knew where his wit got him, sort of wanted to flex that chance if it meant he were going to feel Harry’s hands again, but something told him not to. To just stay put, sit still. Be good.

The shuffling came back again, along with an indecipherable mumble. Harry amusing himself probably, coming up directly behind him in the chair.

His breath caught when his wrists were released quicker than he thought possible. The elastic that’d been tied in an expert fashion fell loose from his tender joints yet he still didn’t move.

Harry may have been impressed.

“Mh, you’re learning well.”

He was hoisted from the chair and back onto the desk, back flat and straight and his heart was surely going to break, fingers clambering for a hold on something, anything to keep him stable.

Harry pulled his legs high, holding both of his ankles within one hand. He could feel the tension shift into his body as he held him like that, ass slightly up off the desk as that only the top of his back and neck were touching the fabric of the cloth. He looked down to see his welted cheeks glowing red from his earlier work and smiled, the memory thriving hot in his mind.

“Missed me?”

Louis didn’t need the use of his eyes to know he was smirking.

Without a warning he flipped him over onto his stomach, enjoying the surprised sound it punched from Louis. Eyes flicking up to see Louis trying to raise his head to get a look back, he slipped a couple of fingers past the waistband of his underwear and pulled, slowly, peeling back the layer of cotton until they were stretched around his spread thighs.

“I’ve been thinking about this for the last hour.”

 _Fuck, what._ An hour?

He’d left him there for an hour.

“Wasn’t much help to the Langley’s,” Harry continued as Louis’ mind stirred, “but I closed the deal for forty thousand so, not bad.”

Not only had he left him for so long, but he’d managed to pull of a last minute deal with one of their most prestigious clients. They’d probably inquired as to were Louis was and Harry would’ve had to lie fluently, nonchalantly. Something about that got Louis incredibly turned on.

Louis’ world was still black, Harry’s scarf firmly in tact. So the physical activity was unbearable.

Then something popped. A moment of silence. Louis’ stomach tensed and a cool liquid fell between his crack, oozed right down the centre as his hairs stood to attention.

“ _Oh my go_ -,” His mouth was left hanging off that vowel as fingers helped ease the thick substance further into his most intimate fold. The lubricant made a soft squelching noise when his hole involuntarily clenched and Louis’ cheeks ignited.

“What do you want the most from this job?”

Fingertips from the idle hand trailed lightly up his back, touching on the space between his shoulder blades and back again.

“Wha… what?” He struggled to reply coherently, his jugular fighting for saliva.

“The money? The pay cheque is, quite substantial.”

“I… uh..,” He bit his lip, screwed his eyes and wriggled.

“Or the power. The influence you’re capable of having.”

Louis was certain his body had fused to Harry’s will, his back arching into the fingers teasing his puckered intimacy. Words were beyond him.

“Tell me what you want.”

“B-bit of both…,” Some words were better than none. “M-money is- _ah_ , s’good,”

“Money and power. Fierce combination.”

He felt the presence of a body looming over his back, felt Harry’s groin, his hardness against him and he tried to grab at him but he was stopped promptly. A warm breath tickled the side of Louis’ face, a barely there kiss whispered at his earlobe, his jaw, then hovering over his lips. So close, so easy to just dip and take his lips for his own. Louis was putty in his hands and this was his time to play.

“What do you want right now?”

Louis breathed into his mouth, “ _Fuck me_ …” and finally, not one but two fingers breached his entrance and pushed inside, the angle he held his hand was just perfect to reach his sweet spot.

He felt the whitest of heats rise, it burnt his toes, his calves. It set his heart and body ablaze. God he wished he could catch a glimpse of what Harry looked like right now. Focused, pupils blown, eyes cast down with those lips wet; hanging loose in concentration in-between intermittent biting.

His hands trembled, fingers fighting to keep still. He was defenceless.

Whimpers, some soft, some drawn out and high, filled the space around them. Thick, sticky and unadulterated sex. His toes curled against the rug as long fingers curled and worked his insides, just right. Not too fast, but far too deep. But that’s how he liked it. He liked it to sting, he needed the strain that came with the best kind of pleasure.

He was going to come quickly. The build up to this moment was too much. All he could feel was Harry behind him, on him, _in_ him. His scent was heady and masculine, his voice low and his force formidable.

“I’m-,” He couldn’t believe it. This was happening. This was actually happening. “ _Please_. Sir please I’m going to- I'm-,”

And then it ceased and the room spun.

With a wet pop harry’s fingers twisted and pulled out and his hole was left a pretty shade of pink from the abuse, his back bare from Harry’s broad torso and his thoughts afloat, left once more, waiting. Wondering.

He’d fuck his mind first, his body will follow.

“So lovely like this.” Harry’s affection settled into his skin, making his need even more resolute.

The blindfold was gently removed, the silky material sliding across the damp skin of his cheeks as his eyes adjusted to the light.

His mind goes a little numb after that, eyes slipping close over their lax state. The taste of himself on Harry’s thick fingers, the way his mouth was full and lapping around the two digits alone got him succumbing to the heat in his groin, the clench in his stomach.

“ _Fuck_ …” Harry’s coarse timbre drowned his inflamed senses, adding to the suffocating haze they were building,“You gonna suck my cock just as nicely?”

Louis moaned and Harry growled, drawing his fingers out slowly and catching Louis’ glazed eyes when they reopened, “Knees.”

He slapped his lips together, a second or two of refocusing his attention around the demand. As he tried to right himself and stand up without the aid of his arms, behind him Harry was working the buttons to his black shirt again, slowly tracing the buckle of his belt the second it fell to the ground, eyes on Louis the entire time.

He gave Harry an unreadable look, something doused in fear as he turned his body around in the small space between them and tried hard not to moan at the sheer sight of him. His tight, animalistic masculinity right there before him. He’d only been given a glimpse of such a sight in those fighting candid photographs online, tainted from smeared blood and fresh sweat. But now, there he was. And there was no escaping him or the reality that was settling over Louis’ beating heart.

Sinking to his knees, he shuffled his bare bottom against his heels and got to pulling on his zipper. He drew his gaze away from the testing green eyes above just in time to catch his aching shaft bob free of his underwear. He was thick, hard and already glistening with precum.

He knew he was big. It was obvious, much thanks to his taste for snugly fitting tailoring that outlined his sizeable bulge when soft, when hard he was bound to be above average.

“You’re a lot bigger than I-,”

His eyes danced with trepidation when Harry’s voice tore through, “Your lips are beautiful when hung like that,” His hand braced his jaw, a thumb trailing his lip, “but I’d much rather see them stretched.”

All poetic distraction was dropped like lead and the hand turned hard, gripped his jaw and guiding him onto his mammoth arousal.

Louis abided easily. His cock was a challenge, the size filling up his whole mouth in the first few inches. He didn’t struggle, took his time to reach his limit and he hit it faster than usual, the tip poking his throat forcefully and he gagged.

Fingers splayed, Harry’s hands having found their way onto the back of Louis’ head, curling into the thick hair and gripping. “Good boy.”

Louis flashed him those eyes, eyes that rivalled and challenged him one beat and the next were the most innocent and translucent, staring up at him like he were there to serve him and only him. He sucked dutifully, the moans involuntary as his head bobbed, up and down, up and down.

“You do it on purpose.”

His cock was proving to be a little too big, he had to secure a hand at the base to gain some control over his successive gagging.

“Never enough to be obvious…,” He took a breath, regained his balance, “but enough.”

Louis moaned around his shaft, tongue flat on the underside and fluttered his eyes close from the craving of his getting quenched. He committed the scene to memory - Harry staring down at him through lowered lids, jaw tense, lips sealed, so controlled. But the valley between his pectorals, the thin veil of sweat present there, the rapid breaths and the guttural sounds. He was just as affected as Louis.

It was difficult to comprehend if he knew what was really happening. His eyes had a glaze to them which made him appeared entranced. His mind had given way to something twisted, some whispering command, a temptation he’d pushed aside until now.

He popped off, sweet and light, with a trail of his obscenity connecting Harry’s glistening slit and his mouth. Louis flicked a bubblegum tongue out between his puffy lips, kitten licking the bundle of nerves below his head before dipping and trailing his tongue along his shaft, over the veins coiling around his muscle and back again.

“Enough.”

He pulled Louis away and ordered him to come astride his lap, groping his wet cock as he watched toned thighs arrange themselves over him, a little nervous tension which he loved, when he was seated nicely on top, letting his fat shaft slap back against his crack.

They drank each other in like this, both exposed in one way or another, both hot and flushed. Louis wanted to kiss him. Wanted to devour this man and suck on those lips, wanted him to taste himself and understand his addiction that’d claimed him already.

But Harry knew. He’d known all along. A buck of his hips and he felt two small palms steady themselves on his shoulders, perfect lips mouthing a silent, ‘o’.

He looked at Harry again, a beg to end this torment. But Harry enjoyed watching him squirm. He’d endured too many days of those eyes, those curves, that tight body flaunting and taunting him every second he could. His sharp words and lack of filter. He wasn’t going to be merciful.

“Think you can take it Lou?”

The smile he offered was charming, always charming, his teeth white and perfect and the chuckle that filtered through it was just as endearing. Of course he was going to take it.

He wondered what he'd be like. Would he be relentless? Pound into him like a man possessed, over and over. Would he get to see the damage this strong body and twisted mind could do? Louis' body would give in before his mind could bless him with a black out.

Or would he be just as edging as he is now, just as controlled and plateaued. Composed and feeding off his helpless sounds as the blunt force of his intrusion gradually worked the strongest, most intense orgasm out of him, maybe two.

“Yeah,” He nodded, dumb to inner monologue. He wanted him so bad. He could feel every ridge on his shaft, rubbing along his crack, Harry’s fingers gripping and pulling his cheeks to make sure he was sliding right against his hole. The pressure on his taint was maddening.

He hung his head back and squeezed the flesh his hands were laid on, didn’t care where, when Harry used his strong hold to lift him by his buttocks and position him neatly over his swollen tip.

He was a stubborn fucker through and through, so sure he would be able to handle what Harry had to offer. But he didn’t expect it to hurt that much.

His hole contracted around him, wanting more but too afraid to take it. Harry rocked his hips forward and they groaned in unison, Louis reaching out to coil fingers up around his neck, into his hair as he took inch by inch, sitting slowly and painfully around the swell of his iron length.

Mumbling ‘ _fuck, fuck, fuck_ ,’ over and over again the tears returned to his eyes as he sheathed most of him, deep and nestled inside his heat. The warm, wet walls gripped him tightly, practically massaging his cock as he held still.

“Fuck me,” A whisper wasn’t good enough.

“I’m sorry, little one?”

“P- _please_ , fuck me,” There was a word missing too.

“One more time, baby.”

“Fuck me,” He whispered again, forehead centimetres away from resting against Harry’s, eyes barely open, “Please, sir, _please_.”

Harry was happy to comply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see you cursing me out. It's fine.


End file.
